The Vanishing
by Startled Boris
Summary: A conference in a spooky Scottish castle goes wrong when the Nations start to disappear one by one. Who or what is kidnapping the Nations? Silliness, creepiness, swearing, innuendo, starring all the usual Nations. Stand-alone story (NOT sequel to Baltics Secrets/Revelations). America, England, France.
1. The Arrival

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters were recreated by Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**The Vanishing**

**Genre: Mystery/thriller/humour (I hope)**

**Characters: UK, US, Russia, France, Spain, Austria, Italy, Germany, Denmark, Finland, Sweden, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Japan..**

**Synopsis: A conference in a spooky Scottish castle goes wrong when the Nations start to disappear one by one. Who or what is kidnapping the Nations? **

**This story is by special request from a few readers - an adaptation from a story in Arthur Kirkland's Diary, but this time written in the third person with some surprises...**

Chapter 1: The Arrival

"See that girl, watch her scream, kicking the Dancing Queen... Damn strange lyrics... Now where the bloody hell is this bloody castle?"

The speaker was of course Arthur Kirkland, personification of England. He stopped his 1957 Bentley at a crossroads and ruffled his blond hair. He was on his way to a conference and was feeling very put out. The conference was taking place in Scotland at a castle designated by his brother, Hamish, who had, in Arthur's words 'thrown a hissy fit' insisting on hosting the next Nations Conference in his beloved 'Bonny Scotland'. So be it, Arthur had thought, and he can bloody well pay for it. But Arthur was beginning to regret giving in to his mad older brother. He liked Scotland, he visited at least twice a year, but the weather was, if possible, even more unpredictable than his own country's. The temperature had read a barmy 66 degrees on his smartphone thingy, but now read an ominous 50 and a murky fog was settling around him.

"Turn left at the next roundabout," Darth Vader's voice told him on his sat nav.

"This isn't a roundabout," Arthur told the device.

"Turn left at the roundabout," the sat nav told him again.

"I'm fed up of you, your instructions have been wrong the whole bloody way," Arthur said. In actual fact, he had not taken enough notice of the instructions, believing his own sense of direction was enough. And had thus gone at least 150 miles out of his way.

There was a loud honking behind him.

"Bloody tourists," Arthur muttered, "No bloody respect any more." He patted the steering wheel, "Come on Bessie, old girl, we'll pull over and look at a map," he said and started the engine. The old car spluttered into life, blue smoke chugged out of the exhaust and then 'poof' the engine died.

"Sod," England said and turned the key again.

Behind him, the honking increased.

"Sod off," he yelled, winding down the window.

He looked in the rear view mirror and all he could see was black metal. He frowned. There was tapping on his drivers window. He wound the window down (1950s Bentleys did not have electric windows).

"Yo Artie dude! Why are you driving this museum piece? What is this anyway? It looks like it's just died..."

Arthur summoned up the rage of a 1000 year old very cross ex-Empire. "Bloody America! This is my beloved Bentley! This is a classic car! Not your bloody American rubbish."

"Well it might be some classic antique rubbish, but it's not working is it?" America pointed out.

"Damn and blast..."

"Do you want a lift in my hire car, man?"

Arthur looked at the huge black vehicle America was 'driving'. It was a Hummer.

"What the bloody hell is that thing? It's totally unsuitable for British roads, it looks like it should be in a war zone!"

"Hell yeah, man!" America yelled.

"Stop shouting!"

"So do you want a lift or not?" America asked, a little quieter.

"I suppose so," Arthur said, and with much reluctance, he got his battered old suitcase out of the Bentley's boot/trunk. "Dear Lord, I hope nobody sees me in this wretched thing."

"Mr England! Are you having a problemo with your vehicle?" came an excitable but happy voice behind them.

"Oh no..." England muttered, "He's bloody early."

"Feliciano! Dude! Look at Arty's car, man! It broke... it's probably even older than him," America all but yelled.

Italy waved at them from the driver's seat of a red Lamborghini, "Mr England, Mr England! Do you want a lift with me and Mr Japan?" He yelled, waving maniacally.

"Well..." England weighed up his options - America and his huge Humbug or whatever it was called or Italy's bright red low-slung sports car which England thought once he'd got himself in, he wouldn't be able to get out.

His decision was made for him.

Japan fell out of the passenger seat, shaking and pale. "Italy-kun, your driving is atrocious! I am severely disturbed. I do not think I can continue."

"A bit over-dramatic, Japan old chap," England said, shoved his battered suitcase into the Lamborghini's trunk (he was a little concerned that there were no back seats in the car) and climbed into the passenger seat. "It's a little..." he began but didn't finish his sentence as Italy put his foot on the gas pedal and they shot off.

* * *

England was right - he did have trouble getting out of the car. America had to help him, Italy just stood looking helpless and biting his lip, waving his arms around like a windmill. Japan laid on the ground hugging the gravel and saying something about mad drivers.

"Damn and blast it, Alfred. You nearly pulled my bloody arms out of their sockets!"

"I sure did!"

England straightened up with as much dignity as he could muster after being hauled out of the bucket seats of the Italian sports car. It had taken America at least twenty minutes to drag him out.

Arthur felt that his spine would never straighten. He looked up at the castle looming in front of them. It was a less well known castle on the tourist trail, a dark forbidding air clung to it. The stonework looked as if it had seen better days (probably Edward the Third's days, Arthur thought) and the some of the window panes were broken. He sighed.

"Ach, yer bloody early!" came a strong Scottish accent.

"Hamish," England sighed.

"Aye, I am..." the Scotsman said, wiping his hands on his kilt.

Hamish was the personification of Scotland, England's elder brother and, in his eyes, should have been the rightful personification of Great Britain, the United Kingdom. But he wasn't. "Yer all too bloody early. I havenae got the rooms ready yet and my haggis isn't oot of the oven yet. Yer might have to go and do some shopping, Arthur, cos I havenae had time... My back's playing up..."

England was appalled, "You didn't hire any staff did you? You cheapskate!"

Alfred, however, was confused, "What did he say, man?"

Italy was amazed, "Wow, you understood him, Mr England? You must be really clever! That was crazy language."

"Where are we anyway?" America asked.

"Chillingley House," England said.

"I thought this was a castle!" America said, utterly disappointed, "You promised a castle!"

"It is a castle... but it's called a house," England said.

"Your language is crazy!" Italy said. He was distracted from saying any other stupidity by his phone vibrating. "Luddy is on his way!"

"I thought he was coming tomorrow? Why is everyone arriving today? I said to arrive Saturday... what day is it today, Alfred?"

"Saturday..."

"I think, my good man, you will find it is Friday," Arthur said.

"Aye and they weren't supposed to be coming til tomorrow - bloody foreigners!" Scotland all but yelled and slammed back into the castle/house, the large 10 foot oak door slamming behind him - but not before Alfred and Arthur heard the words "I havenae had time to get the exorcist."

"Exorcist? Is that like the movie?" Alfred asked, going a little pale.

"He's been visiting your south coast, Mr England," Italy said, reading his phone screen.

"The exorcist has been visiting Bournemouth?" England said, utterly confused.

"There's a ghost?" America asked.

"No, Luddy-kins has been visiting your South Coast." Italy said with a big smile.

"Oh has he? He bloody did that in 1940... the bloody sod." England grumbled, leading the way up the stone steps to the entrance.

"Who? The ghost?" Alfred asked. He looked up at the castle windows, the tangled ivy, the gargoyles glaring down at him and shivered.

"No, Germany." Italy said, waving his arms around.

"Germany is a ghost?" Alfred asked, completely confused and clutching his Disney suitcase.

"There are no ghosts!" England shouted, "Now come on, blokes. Let's just go in."

But they were shoved aside by two forces of nature.

"Get out of the way, losers! Coming through, two man party pack! I bet you were thinking we weren't coming. Kesese!"

"Damn it all, what in the name of my Aunt Alice are you two doing here?" England was appalled. In fact, England was going to be appalled a lot this weekend.

"We were invited!" Denmark said, humping two dozen crates of beer after Prussia.

"He bloody wasn't. He's a bloody hooligan, nuisance and general vagabond. Why in the name of cricket would I invite him to my country?" England said, pointing at Gilbert.

"Because I'm fucking awesome man!"

"It's not your bloody country!" came a Scottish voice deep in the bowels of the castle.

"Damn..." England muttered, shoving them through the doorway.

"Is there really a ghost in here?" America muttered to England.

"Well there bloody won't be any now will there?" England said as Prussia stomped up the huge staircase, yelling at Denmark (his supposed 'best mate and drinking partner') to follow him.

"No... there's not one ghost here in this here old castle..." Scotland said, suddenly appearing behind America.

America almost leapt into England's arms, but then relaxed.

Scotland sniggered as he took a large swig of his Scotch whisky, "There's at least five!" he said and laughed, horridly and then staggered off.

"I hope he doesn't get bloody drunk..." England muttered and shoved America out of the way.

However, Italy was equally worried, "I wish Luddy was here..." he whined.

"Bloody foreigners," England muttered, stepping inside the cold and damp huge hallway of the castle. He hoped to God that the others wouldn't arrive just yet. His hopes were dashed.

"We saw mad fat commie bastard and two Vikings on the way here," Prussia yelled down the stairs to England and then he yelled, "Fuckin' hell, man. What a shithole! This is worse than Austria's place - I thought he was a stingy bastard... this is freezing. We should have bombed this in the war. Hey Den - beer me!"

The latter remark presumably meant that Denmark was to provide Prussia with a can of beer. England was appalled but was too busy digesting the first comment.

"Russia?! And Vikings? What do you bloody mean by Vikings?" England spluttered. He really needed a cup of tea now. Images of Jorvik and Viking raids back in the 10th Century entered his head and he shoved past a gibbering Italian and a prone Japanese man (Kiku was lying on the floor) and went back outside.

Prussia's foghorn voice echoed down the 16th Century staircase and hit England in the ear, "They were stood next to the road, their hire car had broken down. They were being totally unawesome man!"

Denmark must have said something to him, because Prussia said, "Well... I don't believe in Santa - saying Fin is unawesome doesn't mean he won't visit me this year... Yeah I have been good, I bloody have!"

England narrowed his eyes and looked down the drive and spotted what could only be described as a disaster on wheels - the 'car' Prussia and Denmark had arrived in had duct tape holding one of the wings to the remainder of the car, the exhaust pipe was trailing on the gravel and there was a nasty smell of burning. It was evident that they'd stolen it from some unfortunate person as it was emblazoned with "Lowestoft Driving School" along one side and a battered huge red 'L' on the roof. England shuddered. "You stole this car! I'm going to call the police!" he yelled.

"We borrowed it, the guy didn't want it, did he, Den?" Prussia yelled from an upstairs window.

England shook his head and, much against his own reasoning and propriety, shouted back up to him, "Whereabouts were Finland, Sweden and Russia?"

"By the road, man!" Prussia shouted back.

"Which road?"

"That little bendy one - we followed Alfie on it for a bit - he didn't see us in his big fuckoff Hummer."

"That was the A1!" England said, utterly appalled.

England turned back to the 'house' to find his cup of tea.

Ten minutes later, England was further appalled. Scotland was comatose on the kitchen table, clutching a bottle of Malt Whisky and singing 'Scotland the Brave'. Arthur had been hoping against hope that the Scotsman could keep order (most of the Nations were wary of Hamish - a) because they didn't understand his thick Glaswegian accent and b) because he could outdrink even Russia and Denmark).

He was wrong. He was to be even more appalled when he heard a rabble outside. He poked his head out of the kitchen window and watched in horror as a tiny, bright green (the same colour Kiku's face had turned when he'd stepped out of America's car, England thought) Fiat pulled up erratically on the driveway.

The small Fiat, surely not designed to carry two Vikings, a large Russian and a dozy Spaniard, promptly seemed to collapse - in fact two of its tyres burst.

England watched, utterly puzzled. Why did they insist on putting the two largest Nations - Sweden and Russia - both strapping 6 footers in the back of such a tiny car? England shook his head, ignoring Scotland's medley of Scottish folk songs behind him.

Spain was now stood watching with a gormless grin on his face as Sweden attempted to squeeze himself out of the tiny car. Finland was pulling him by the arms. England didn't know what happened next, but surmised that Russia (still stuck in the car) had said something sinister, as Sweden suddenly shot out of the car and was stood glowering with an axe in his hand.

"Bloody vikings," England muttered but watched, utterly fascinated anyway.

The way in which Russia eventually extricated himself from the tiny Fiat was interesting to say the least. England winced as the back window was smashed and then one of the front seats was thrown out of the car and Russia practically fought his way out and stood on the driveway brandishing a piece of plumbing.

Sweden glowered at him.

Russia glowered back.

Finland stood between the two 6 foot Arctic Nations and seemed to be trying to placate them.

Spain stood to one side smiling goofily.

Before yet another Russo-Swedish War could be started, everyone looked up at a disturbance in the air - out of England's sightline.

England "humphed" to himself, glared at Scotland in disgust and then stomped out.

The 'disturbance' was a helicopter hovering in the air. The door opened and Arthur saw a pallid looking Frenchman who he knew as the French Government's Assistant Ambassador to the UK peering out. Pierre Lucont was a man on the edge, a man now addicted to Prozac and cognac (the only things that got him through the day), a man who was prematurely aged. He was the man whose job it was to deal with Francis, the great Nation of Le France, when he was in Britain. He hated his job. Yet no-one else would do it. The helicopter was now barely ten feet above the ground and Pierre gave the figure next to him a push.

Francis landed rather elegantly (like a bloody cat, England thought) onto the lawn and rolled like the parachutist he really wasn't. He got to his feet and waved at the departing helicopter and the relieved face of Pierre, "Au revoir mon cher! I know you love me! It was really not my fault that the large turnip in my hand poked that large lady up the derriere at Heathrow!"

England shuddered. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" he said.

"That is your greeting to me, Angleterre?" Francis asked, brushing himself down and then proceeding to brush down England.

England shoved him away, "Get off me, frog! I didn't just fall out of a bloody helicopter!"

"I did not fall, mon ami! I descended with graceful dignity!"

"It looked like you were pushed by that worried looking man," Finland butted in.

"Pushed? Of course I was not pushed! Who would push me? I, the great Le France?"

"Dear Lord."

"A lot of people would push you..." Russia said quietly and then smiled creepily.

"Right-o, everyone! Let's all get inside..." England said hurriedly.

"Ah oui... I will get inside... somebody's pants!" France exclaimed with a leer, dodging past Russia.

"Bloody hell! Has anyone got any bromide?" England said.

It was some time later that the first of England's 'bright ideas' went disastrously wrong.

He'd hoped that Scotland could be relied on to hire staff to help out - he hadn't.

He'd hoped that Scotland had bought food in to cater for the attendees - he hadn't.

He'd hoped that Scotland could be relied on to stay relatively sober to help him out - he didn't.

So, England decided, whilst the Nations who'd already arrived were exploring the castle (in their various and unique ways) to pin a notice on the fridge.

"Good afternoon everybody, and welcome to Scotland.. Yes I know Scotland is unconscious at the moment... but welcome anyway... Please feel free to make yourselves at home... but not too much." England felt some trepidation at this and hesitated but then continued. "You will notice that this fridge contains some bare provisions..." (It actually contained whisky, a can of Irn Bru that England did not dare move and some very out of date milk.) "... however, I will be making a trip to the local supermarket so if you require more specific provisions, please detail them on the sheet below. Warm regards, Arthur Kirkland." (England gritted his teeth when he wrote warm regards.)

He then informed Italy - the biggest chatterbox - who was currently gazing in awe at the portraits of various bad-tempered looking Scottish Lairds - to tell the others that an important notice was pinned to the fridge in the kitchen. Italy nodded enthusiastically and hurried off, eager to please.

England turned to go, and stopped - did the eyes of that portrait just move? He stopped and stared at the painting of a particularly bilious-looking 6th Earl of Coldbottom. He remembered this Earl - Gordon Coldbottom - an exceptionally bad-tempered and mean-spirited 17th Century Earl who fought against the English and then against his own Scots people and basically pissed off everybody in the British Isles, although England thought the painter had captured the man's grumpiness - the eyes were wrong and looked too 'nice'.

England shrugged, it had been a long day and went up to his room, hoping he wasn't sharing with America - again. The boy would be a nightmare if he thought the castle was haunted. He shivered, still with the feeling that eyes were following him. "Damned painting... creepy..." he muttered to himself.

However, the island Nation did not realise the complete weirdness that would be unleashed by his innocuous note. Feeling that an hour would be enough time for the 'idiots' to have expressed their wishes, he returned to the kitchen. Scotland was gone. England assumed his brother had either staggered off to some dark corner or was in a pub somewhere but the note was no longer on the fridge. He spun around looking wildly and found it - pinned by a kitchen knife to the opposite wall.

Most of what his fellow Nations had written had been crossed out by the final person to write on the sheet. England winced at the general bad spelling and awful writing. However, it was still more or less decipherable.

At the very top, just under Arthur's cheery note was written "hambuggers, beefbuggers, that cheese they put in buggers, bugger buns..." (Arthur visibly winced at each 'bugger') "hotdogs, hot dog buns, ketchup, mustard, fries, coke and potato chips" and then in capitals "THANKS ARTIE DUDE!" Under this in very small almost undecipherable writing were the words "rice and some noodles if this is not too much trouble, England-san. Sorry." The rest of the list was taken up by various Italian-sounding words of which England only recognised "pastaaa". There were also several French-sounding wines and the word 'tomatoes' was also emblazoned ten times.

The only thing not crossed out were the words at the bottom of the note in red ink and big, child-like writing: "Sunflowers, da? Vodka, da? Stolichnaya not Smirnoff. Also some chocolate. Spasiba Mr England. PS Do not buy Amerika's capitalist rubbish, da?" This was accompanied by a doodle of a big, goofy smiley face.

England shuddered, picked up the list, ignored the knife still embedded in the wall and went out.

The options for transport to the supermarket were not great.

Italy's bright red sportscar which England was convinced he would never get out of. Prussia and Denmark's stolen car - England did not feel brave enough to venture behind the wheel, Spain's hire car was slumped on its burst tyres so that was a no-no, so it was just America's Hummer.

England sighed and with much regret climbed (literally) into the Hummer's drivers seat. He slammed the door and thought "How hard can this be? Really?" He was over a thousand years old, surely he could drive an over-large vehicle through the streets of a small Scottish town?

He got as far as an obscure little lane called, incongruously, Bottom End Lane, which he was sure was something France had somehow arranged and was stuck.

The lane was approximately wide enough for a horse and cart but not for an American 'idiotmobile' as Arthur dubbed it. In fact, a horse and cart was heading up the lane towards him. England waved frantically at them and then gave up as the cart-driver stopped his horse and glared at him. "Like a bloody stand-off..." England muttered and then shouted, "This isn't my car! I'm not American!" he yelled apologetically. There was a horrid crunch as England attempted to put the vehicle in reverse gear and then promptly reversed into a lampost. "Sorry, sorry, sorry..." he yelled. "Bugger..." he said.

His salvation came in an unexpected form.

"England! Are you having difficulties?"

England looked around and then down and found three annoyingly familiar faces looking up at him. (Although to be fair, one wasn't annoying, but the other two definitely were.)

"Does it look like I'm having difficulties?" he asked as he attempted to put the bloody thing back in gear.

"Ja."

"Bugger." England said and opened the drivers door and climbed out - not without some difficulty. "I'm too old for this," he said. "Hello Lily, hello Switzerland, Austria..."

"You think you're old? I'm older than you..." Austria began.

"I can drive this for you if you're stuck," Switzerland told England.

"Of course I'm not stuck," England said but then looked at the horse and cart, the car and bus behind it and the growing audience of pedestrians. "Damn..." he said.

With utter humiliation, England was sat in the back of the despicable black 'monstrosity' while Switzerland drove (quite expertly) to the supermarket and then back to the castle.

Arthur had bought everything on the list as well as teabags, cheese (Switzerland insisted on it being the most expensive as England was paying), the cheapest baked beans on offer and apple pie - the closest thing to apple strudel that could be found in a Scottish supermarket.

Austria and Switzerland had argued the whole way back to the castle. Mainly over money. England had tried to ignore them but had got involved, much to his regret.

"The currency exchange was abysmal, wasn't it Vash?"

"Ja, but I told you to go to the bank I usually go to."

"Your bank tried to rob me last time - I only got 38 pounds and 15 pence! I got 39 pounds this time, still very very poor."

Vash was outraged. "My bank does not rob people!"

"It was outrageous," Austria continued ignoring Vash. "And the exchange rate is even worse today. If I'd waited until tomorrow I would have got more..."

"Like 50 pence more?" England said from the back seat.

Austria humphed and said, "Money is money... it pays to save..." he said.

"There's saving and there's being mean," Switzerland told him as he manoeuvred America's huge vehicle around a tiny roundabout.

"Ha! You can talk... You took some cheese back to the supermarket because it wasn't good enough - it was the cheapest brand!"

Lily - sat next to England - shook her head. She was obviously used to her brother and his neighbour arguing.

"Are they always like this?" England asked her.

She nodded, "Last Christmas was awful. Miss Hungary turned up but didn't stay because of their arguing. Mr Prussia prank-called bruder and told him he and Den were coming round with some 'friends' for a party. Switzerland nearly had a heart attack and Mr Austria just laughed. Miss Hungary admitted she'd thought it up and had given them bruder's new number and then bruder ..."

"How utterly ridiculous!" England exclaimed. "Like a bunch of kids... need to grow up." He omitted to tell them that every year, Christmas time at the Kirkland household descended into arguments and chaos with his brothers - none of whom particularly liked him.

The argument - going backwards and forwards all the way to the castle left all of them in quite a bad mood.

But what happened later was totally unexpected..

"I am going to make sure you are well away from these... these... maniacs!" Switzerland told Lily, and pushed her up the stairs, "Mr England where is your west wing? Which wing of this castle is the most secure?" He called back to England.

Arthur sighed, wing was certainly pushing it. "I don't think..." he began. But Switzerland was already going along each of the doors and checking to see which had locks. Lily stood with him, looking very annoyed.

"I really don't understand why you are so worried..." Arthur began but there was a commotion downstairs.

Arthur sighed and went downstairs to find a cacophony of noise.

"Mozart is king!" the author does not need to tell the reader who the speaker was in this instance.

"Mozart is a complete downer, man, can't you play anything else? What about Gershwin?" America said.

"Ja or Beethoven?" Prussia chimed in.

"Tchaikovsky was the best composer ever and Mr Pipe says so as well..."

"I will play only Mozart and perhaps some Strauss... all of you be quiet."

"Bloody specs is a boring fart."

"I do not like you, Gilbert and Mr Pipe does not like you either."

"Sibelius is rather good, isn't he Ber?"

"Hmmm..."

"What does he know? All he listens to is Abba."

"Woowoo livin' on a prayer!"

"That's not Beethoven."

"Bon Jovi rocks man!"

"Is he 19th century?"

"Yer gotta be kiddin' me."

"You're an idiot."

"I don't like you either and neither does Mr Pipe."

"Weird dude man, what's that purply stuff coming out from your head?"

"Wut?"

"I think you're all mad," England said as he stepped into the 'library'. A misnomer if ever there was one. There wasn't a book in the place. There was a large grand piano though - badly tuned - that Austria was sat at. The other Nations were in various locations around the room.

"I'm going to ring my Embassy," said America, "And get some decent DVDs sent here."

"There's no DVD player..." England muttered.

"I'm going to ring mine and tell them... that I'm awesome!" Prussia said.

"Except you're not... and you don't have an embassy..." England said.

"I'm going to ring China!" Russia said.

Most of them (England would try - much later - to remember who went where) walked out to argue over the one phone in the hallway. America yelled down his iphone but then realised there was no cellphone signal.

"I will use the phone first because I am biggest!" Russia was saying.

England shook his head sadly. It was going to be a long weekend.

France patted the sofa beside him, "Monsieur Angleterre, come sit with me and have a glass of wine."

"I don't bloody think so..."

But before he could rant at the Frenchman there was an ear-splitting scream from upstairs.

Everyone (England, later, could not remember who) ran up the stairs - Arthur at the back - like a stampede.

"I saw a ghost!" Lily stuttered and then promptly fainted.


	2. Bathtime with Ivan

The Vanishing

Chapter 2

"Someone get some water!" England said bending over Lily.

"Get away from her!" Switzerland said, pointing a rifle in the Englishman's face.

"I'm trying to bloody help, you stupid Swiss…"

Italy promptly appeared and threw a glass of water in Lily's face, trying to rouse her, and then squeaked and ran off as Switzerland turned his rifle on him.

"I saw a ghost!" Lily said again, sitting up. "Oh bruder!"

Switzerland frowned - not an unusual look for him - he was always unhappy about something, England thought, and then turned and fired his rifle several times.

"Well, I say, that was totally unreasonable!" England said. "My brother will not be happy… I bloody hope you're going to pay for all the damage!"

"Yes, he will… You can be sure that it won't be coming out of my expenses!" Austria said.

The other Nations crowded around, muttering and jostling. America stepped forward, "I think this is a job for a hero!"

"It's a shame we don't have one," Russia said, a creepy smile on his face. A purple haze around him.

"Eh?" America was about to complain - loudly but was interrupted by Switzerland.

"I'll get this so-called ghost," Switzerland said. "England - you take care of Lily and if anything happens to her, I will hold you responsible."

"Thanks…" England said resignedly.

Switzerland stepped back, reloaded his rifle and began a search.

"You need any help from a hero?" America called, conspicuously not looking at Russia as he said this.

"Do you have a gun?" Switzerland asked, not looking at him, but stalking down the corridor back to his and Lily's room.

"Well… no… Arthur said I wasn't allowed to bring one…"

"Kesese! America has to do what England tells him… what a kid!" Prussia snorted.

America bristled, "I don't need no gun to be an 'ero!" he exclaimed.

"You don't need a gun to be a hero," England corrected the American with a sigh.

"That's what I said!" America said, totally exasperated.

England was trying to get everyone to go downstairs - before one of them got shot by Switzerland. He doubted very much that there was a 'ghost', the girl had probably just seen a shadow or perhaps one of the idiot Nations was playing a prank and wouldn't own up to it.

"I'm going to ring the police," Finland said with a determined look on his face.

"I'm going to ring for a takeout," Prussia said, with a shrug.

"Pizzaaa," Italy said, white-faced and trembling.

"I'm going to get a beer," Denmark said, following Prussia.

"I'm going for a bath," Russia said with a creepy smile.

England sat at the head of the dining table, Scotland was dozing with his head on one side of him and America was stuffing himself with burgers (not 'buggers') on the other. On the other side of Scotland was Lily, who fed a jittery Feliciano hot chocolate with a steady hand. Further down, Finland and Sweden were talking quietly (or rather Finland was talking quietly and Sweden was looking at him) and Denmark seemed to be trying to break America out of his burger trance since Prussia had deserted him to 'bother Specs' in the music room. Japan was sat apart from the others, fiddling with his expensive looking mobile phone trying, desperately, to get a signal. Spain seemed, surprisingly, the only one doing anything even remotely productive and was cooking… something (England didn't ask what - but it seemed to consist of nothing but tomatoes.), whilst France was lounging moodily against the kitchen worktop, a last ray from the setting sun illuminating his golden hair as he took a sip from his wine glass.

"I say, chaps, Switzerland has been an awfully long time." England's words broke the quiet in the room and most of the Nations turned to look at him.

"Do you think something's happened to bruder?" Lily asked, her eyes widened innocently.

"I don't see why, but perhaps he needs some help with his wallet or something. Alfred," here England nudged America, "Stop stuffing your damn face and come with me, you too, France," he said.

"Moi, but mon cher…"

"Yes, you. Be quick about it, I need someone with me with half a brain."

"Oh mon Angleterre!" France set his wine glass down with some surprise. "I know you mean zis as an insult but I will take it as a compliment, ah yes!"

"If you must, come along chaps!" England led the way.

"Are we expecting trouble, dudes?" America asked him as they went up the stairs.

"I don't know… but I think trouble is afoot."

"A foot? Why not an 'an arm'?" America asked.

"It's just a saying," England sighed. "Switzerland! Are you alright?" England knocked politely on the door. When there was no reply, he exchanged a look with France, who moved him out of the way and knocked.

"Suisse, ma cher? It is only us, ah yes!"

France tried the door, which wouldn't budge, "It's locked!" he said.

"There aren't any locks. Someone's pushed something up against the door handle." England turned to America, "Alfred… would you mind?"

"Stand back, men," America rolled back his sleeves, a serious look on his face though he was probably enjoying all of this. France and England jumped back as America charged shoulder-first at the door.

The door caved in almost as soon as Alfred's shoulder hit it and the American hauled a chest of drawers out of the way so that they could all get in. "Switzy-dude?" America yelled.

"Nice work, Alfred, if he's anywhere within a three-mile radius he'll certainly know we're looking for him." England looked at the remains of the door with a sigh. "Well we can't make Lily sleep in a room without a door. I'll give her and Vash my room, since that's the only one that locks. Come on France, help me put these drawers back."

Once that particular task was done the three Nations stood and looked at each other.

"He isn't here," America observed.

"Indeed, dear boy. It appears we have something of a locked room mystery. Switzerland went in here, Lily saw a ghost, the door slams shut and…" Here England went over to the window. "The window doesn't open, some fool has painted it shut… so how did Switzerland vanish into thin air?"

"Vash would not have left his lovely Lily behind," France pointed out. "Monsieur Ghost must have taken him by surprise!"

America looked around nervously.

"Don't be daft, France, there's no such thing as bloody ghosts… stop shaking, Alfred."

"But Artie… what if he's right? One of us could be next."

"Don't be bloody ridiculous. I think the same as you, someone must have taken Vash. But it's no ghost. It must be …" he paused for effect. (There was none.) "… A Nation."

"A Nation, Artie? But which one?"

"Oui, you 'ave a suspect, mon cher?"

"Well," Arthur began. "Most of the people were in the library when Switzerland came up here with Lily…"

"Yes, they were all arguing, some of them very loudly…"

"Including you, Alfred… but then you all went to make a phone call… that was very convenient wasn't it? Create a diversion and then… wham!"

"George Michael kidnapped le Suisse?"

"No, you bloody French idiot."

"Who could kidnap Vash though - he had his rifle with him… oh wait!" Alfred bent down and physically lifted the hefty four-poster 18th century bed up in the air to reveal… the Swissman's beloved rifle.

"How did you do that? And more importantly, how did you know that was there?"

"I saw the snub sticking out."

"Hmm… indeed…" England walked up and down the room with his hands behind his back, unbeknown that France was copying him. "Let's see… who would have the wherewithal to get Switzerland… who doesn't like him?"

"Everybody," America said shortly, still holding up one end of the bed.

"You can put that down, Alfred. However, that rifle is an important clue."

"Yay! I found the first clue!" Alfred was inordinately pleased with himself.

England shook himself and tried again. "Where was everybody when Lily screamed?"

"I was trying to ring my embassy on my iPhone, man."

"What about Prussia?" England asked.

"He doesn't have an iPhone. He's been banned from having a phone since that incident last Christmas…" America said.

"What incident? Oh never mind…" England said.

"You are very lucky, mon ami that you are an island and you do not have to live next door to such vulgarity," France said with a sigh.

"Yes… quite... You're enough vulgarity for anyone."

"And what about l'Autriche?"

"He doesn't have one either - he has the cheapest phone that you can get…"

"Yes, but where was he when Lily screamed?"

"Dunno. Playing some rubbish…"

"You were with me, France, I remember that…" England said.

"Ah oui… it was beautiful. A moment to treasure."

England ignored him. "What about Russia? Where was he?" England couldn't imagine anyone other than Russia having the guts or the brawn to take down Switzerland armed with a gun.

"He has a shitty Nokia that plays some shitty music…"

"I think Le Russie could certainly pick up Mr Switzerland and…" France stopped, shuddering.

"Erm… yes, and Gilbert quite openly hated Switzerland, so I can see him pulling a prank on him. And Austria was arguing in the car with him and Russia's just downright creepy. Suspect everybody, gentlemen." England said.

"Oui, zere could be an accomplice as well!"

"Yes, quite right, frogface."

"My prime suspect is commie dude. He's creepy and he's always drunk!" America said.

"We need to question him right away," Arthur concluded. "Honestly, where the bloody hell is he when you need him?"

"Privet!"

The three Nations froze. Arthur was the first to look towards the door where Russia was stood with a fluffy bath robe on, a towel also wrapped around his head turban-style and his ever-present scarf around his neck. Somehow he still looked menacing.

"Russia… good evening. We were just going to look for you," England clasped his hands behind his back to stop them from shaking and hoped to God that Russia hadn't heard them talking.

"Da! I have been in the bath!" Russia said, rather unnecessarily Arthur thought. "It was a very big bath. I dropped my book in it though." Here Russia looked sad but then smiled as he looked around the room, "Did something just happen? I heard silly America shouting and a big crash."

"Da… I mean er yes. We're looking for Switzerland… we wondered if he was in here."

"It doesn't look as if he is, does it?" Russia said chirpily and then grinned, "Poor little Lily. I bet she is worried. Well, see you later." He waved goodbye and advanced down the hallway to get dressed (one would hope), his loud footsteps echoing. England waited until his bedroom door was closed and then turned to the others.

"Well he was a cool customer! Next destination is Russia's bathroom," he whispered.

"Yeah… like I need the bathroom," America said.

"No… I mean… oh go in there, then," England sighed, pointing to Switzerland's bathroom.

"Remember, Angleterre when we were potty-training him? We made such a cute family…" France went off into a reverie.

"I can hear you!" America yelled.

"I meant we go and check out Russia's alibi." England said.

"Yeah man, if he's only just got outta the bathtub then there'll be evidence, right Artie?" America all but yelled from the bathroom.

"Right. Come on, France," England had to pull France away from the chest of drawers which France was pulling open with great interest and pulling out a pair of tartan bloomers.

"Well I think it's safe to say Russia did take a bath," England said despondently.

The huge bath hadn't yet drained entirely and the water at the bottom (with pink bubbles) was only lukewarm when he plunged his hand into it.

"Ivan used to stay at my place when we were allies," France noted. "… and he always used all the hot water. He used to stay in for hours…"

"This proves nothing," England decided. "He could have got out and done something to Switzerland dressed in that ridiculous bathrobe. In fact he's the only person I can think of who would do this - in a bathrobe or not."

"Dudes!" America drew their attention, pointing to something on the radiator. "That's the dude's book, right? He said he dropped it in the bath."

"Da, I did!"

"Bloody damn and blast! How the bloody hell did you get there?" England, America and France all turned around as Russia stood in the doorway - now dressed but holding a piece of bannister.

"Why are you in my room?" Russia asked.

"We were… we were…" England stuttered - sounding very much like Latvia. They'd crept in and found the room empty… How the hell had Russia crept up on them?

America held up the book, "Is this yours, dude? It says Dusty… Dusty…" America gave up trying to read the author's name.

"Doestovsky," Russia said smoothly. He pointed the piece of bannister at England. "Why are you in my bathroom?" He repeated.

"We were checking the plumbing!" England said with a touch of genius.

"Crime and Punishment!" Russia said suddenly and quite chirpily.

"Whaaat?" England said, France tried to high-tail it out but was stopped by Russia's arm.

Russia pointed at the book, "That's what I was reading!"

"Well… time we were going…" England said and tried to duck under Russia's arm.

Russia stopped him, "I don't think so, Mr England… I think you and I need to do something…"

"Whaaaaaa…" England stuttered.

"America and France can go though…" Russia smiled chirpily.

"Yeah, see you later, alligator!" America ducked out, "I'm gonna ring my embassy and… oh is that pizza I can smell?"

"Au revoir, Angleterre, it was nice knowing you…" France said sadly.

Twenty minutes later… much to (some of) the Nations' relief, England emerged from Russia's room and staggered downstairs. His hair was wet, he was exhausted and his arms ached.

"Mon ami! Angleterre!" France threw his arms around his old rival, "What did zat nasty Russie do to you?"

England slumped in a chair, "Someone give me whisky," he said. "Dear Lord… never again…"

"Kesese! Did rapetruck Russia strike again?" Prussia's evil little face homed into view.

France handed England a large glass of whisky, and winced visibly, "Gilbert… you are sometimes very uncouth… poor Angleterre…"

"He made me… he made me…" England stuttered and stammered and took a large gulp of whisky.

America paused in biting a huge slice of pizza. Austria's piano-playing reached a crescendo in the background. Italy whimpered. Sweden put his hands over Lily's ears. Finland took out his 'naughty or nice list' and began writing. Denmark laughed and took a swig of his beer.

"… He made me rip out the bath panel and then he took the plumbing to bits… the man's mad!" England finally finished.

"Eeet is shocking!" France almost fell off his chair.

"Nutjob," America said and continued eating his pizza.

"Yer see… this is what I had to live with when I lived in the US-fucking-cold-as-hell-SR," Gilbert said.

"We should organise a search, men!" America said, swallowing the rest of his pizza.

"I am not your 'men'," England said.

"Sure you're not, Engerland," America said, deliberately mispronouncing England's name.

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"We should split up and search this castle from top to bottom, who's with me?" America said.

Nobody answered.

"Aw come on, guys! We have to catch this dude before he gets someone else!"

"Why do you think he will get anyone else?" England said.

"I thought it was a ghost?" said someone else.

"Perhaps Switzerland just wandered off by himself?" someone else said.

"Bruder doesn't wander…" Lily said.

Nobody could imagine Switzerland 'wandering', apart from… Japan it seemed. "I think Mr Switzerland wanders around the mountains and yodels?" he said quietly.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Thankfully, America broke it (the silence that is). "Okay guys, who's with me?"

"For what?" England sighed.

"To split up and look for clues!"

"This isn't an episode of Scooby Doo!" England said, exasperated. Honestly when would the 'boy' realise he wasn't in a film/on television?

"It isn't?" This came from Russia, just entering the room, who looked almost upset at the revelation.

"Japan, Spain, my mates Gil and Den you're all with me!" America announced. "We'll take the top floors. England - you take Francy-pants, Italy, Australia and Russkie dude and search this floor and the dungeons."

"Wait, who the bloody hell died and made you king of the world?" England exclaimed. He then face-palmed when he realised he'd been left with the two most useless and cowardly nations who would surrender at the drop of a hat (or pants in France's case) and Austria would need to be surgically removed from his piano - with anaesthesia. At least Russia was formidable, if he was going to go somewhere scary he would take Russia and make him go first. But it was trying to make the big lunk actually 'do' anything.

As he was thinking these things, 'Australia' shouted through from the library over the top of some frantic piano-playing, "I AM NOT AUSTRALIA!"

"Yeah dude…" America said, not listening.

"I do not think, America-kun that…" Japan began.

"This is totally going to be hilarious, come on Den, bring that crate…" Gilbert swaggered out.

Russia growled, watching the Prussian leave, "Can I be on America's team?" he asked.

"So you can hit Prussia?" England asked.

"Da!" Russia smiled creepily.

"In that case, no."

Russia's smile faded.

"What about us?" Finland said to America, pointing at Sweden. "Don't we count? I held Russia off in the Winter War."

Russia snarled again at the little Finnish man.

Finland backed off, straight into Sweden who in turn glared at Russia. "I mean.. Er… we've been friends since then haven't we? I mean I've been neutral…" Finland said quickly.

Russia's purple haze left him as quick as it had appeared but he still glared at Sweden.

"You can look after Lily, I would imagine you're the only people here who could be trusted," England said with a shudder. Finland seemed placated by this, but Sweden's stoic expression did not waver.

America was already heading out of the door with his 'team'. Spain was looking very confused, he carried his pot of tomato-something or other and was still wearing his apron, Denmark hauled a crate of beer after Prussia who was whistling loudly, Japan bowed to England and backed out.

"Little weirdo…" England muttered.

"Da, he is… I do not like him," Russia said simply.

England shuddered and turned to his 'team'. Two cowards and a psychopath, lovely. "Austria? Are you with us?" He called, hopefully. The Austrian was pretty useless in a fight - although he could use a sword and was no coward, but he at least was intelligent enough not to miss important clues.

"Nein! I will take no part in this ridiculous enterprise!" Austria shouted back from the other room.

"You don't want to find Switzerland?" Russia called. "I think that is very suspect, England. I think as Mr Austria and Mr Switzerland don't like each other, we could say that Mr Austria is the one who grabbed Mr Switzerland and…" Russia began to go into elaborate detail of the way in which Austria could have disposed of Switzerland's body.

Lily burst into tears. Finland put his arms around her. Sweden put on the kettle. Italy let out a small sob and clung to, weirdly, France, who went very pale.

"I don't think there's any need for that, Russia," England said in his sternest voice.

"You don't?" Russia seemed amazed. "I think Mr Austria could easily have killed Mr Switzerland. They have hated each other for centuries."

"Hmm… you seem very insistent about this, Russia," England said suspiciously.

"Da! I am!" Russia said chirpily. "I don't like Mr Austria," he said.

"You don't like anyone though, do you?" England said as they headed out of the door. He was trying to think how on earth he could get rid of Russia without looking as if he were trying to get rid of Russia.

But Russia tagged along his heels, "Nyet… only Lily, she's nice. And my Toris but he ran away…" Russia screwed up his eyes as he tried to think.

"Anyway, France and Italy you come with me… Russia perhaps if you go that way…"

"Nyet, I'll stay with you… I don't trust you, England," Russia said brightly.

England was appalled. (He was really going to spend the whole weekend appalled, to be honest.) To be seen as a suspect by that lunatic. He was speechless.

"Right… well… I suppose we'd better go and look for Switzerland. We'll start with this floor," England said and tried to steer a whining, shaking Italy, a mooching France and a lumbering Russian (now clutching his new piece of bathroom plumbing) out of the 'library/music room' towards the hallway.

"I think Mr Switzerland is probably in pieces," Russia said, a creepy smile on his face. "I bet we will find his head in a bit."

England tried to ignore Russia's obvious enthusiasm, "Come on, chaps. Let's check out the dining room," he said.

"You think Switzerland's head is in there?" Russia asked. "I'm hungry…" he added, rubbing his stomach, "When are we going to eat?" Anything less than 6000 calories a day was starvation diet for the Russian and he'd consumed much less than that on this particular day.

"Erm well…" Arthur stuttered.

"I could just eat… something… perhaps Italian…" Russia looked around and unfortunately his eyes rested on the small Italian, who leapt behind France. It would be hoped that Russia was thinking of Italian _food_. But he didn't say this.

England was about to reply to this but was stopped short by an ear-piercing scream that emanated from one of the upper floors.

"What the hell!" came an American voice and a further yell and another scream.

There was a stampede and then Denmark and Prussia came sliding down the bannister, the former clutching a crate of beer to his chest. Both were white-faced and wild-looking.

"What's going on?" England asked.

"It's a fucking huge demon from hell!" Gilbert said and plucked a beer from the crate, opened it and took a big gulp.

"A demon? How preposterous!" England exclaimed and shook his head.

"Who was it? Azgoroth? Beelzebub? Crowley?" Russia asked and then seeing his fellow Nations' enquiring looks (read that as 'open-mouthed and shocked') frowned and shut up.

"I don't fucking know! It didn't leave a calling card!" Prussia said.

"It had red eyes and big fangs," Denmark butted in.

"What a load of rubbish," England said, shaking his head.

Russia held up a hand, "Hold on… question…" he began to say.

But he was interrupted by a yell .

Apparently, the 'hero' was having trouble. "Someone help us!"

"Don't go up there, man," Prussia said, laying a restraining hand on England's arm.

England shook him off, "Silly little man. This is utterly preposterous. Demon indeed," he huffed.

"Da! It is silly. They only ever visit me at night! I scared the last one who visited me," Russia looked quite sad at this, and then he called up the stairs, "Drekavac? Is that you? I'm sorry I laughed at your funny tail and horns…"

"Dear Lord…" Arthur said.

Italy whimpered, France took a large glug of wine. Denmark was backing away towards the kitchen and what he hoped was the safety of his fellow Nordics - Sweden and Finland. Prussia looked appalled, "Nutjob," he muttered.

However, before England could even go upstairs and save America (wouldn't that just be beautiful, he thought), America and Japan came stumbling down the stairs almost running over the Englishman.

"I say!" England exclaimed.

Following America and Japan could only be described as a furry rug with legs. And red eyes. And teeth. Lots of teeth.

"It's just a dog," England said.

"It's not 'just a dog'! It's evil!" America shouted, cowering behind England.

"Hai! A demon from the pits of hell out for revenge, I have heard of such things…" Japan said, gathering up his coat and shoes. "I am leaving, this is a cursed house!"

The noise coming from the 'demon' was incredible. The 'demon' was just 25 cm high and weighed all of 9 kgs but the sound coming from it reverberated around the room.

"That's not any demon I know," Russia said slowly.

England jumped back as the 'demon' snapped at his ankles and then it turned its attention to Prussia's feet. He barely noticed as Japan ran out the door, slamming it behind him, and the sound of Italy's car starting filled the air. Japan had clearly just taken the Italian's sports car and left.

"Fucking 'ell!" Prussia leapt into Denmark's arms, who in turn ran for the kitchen, his 'awesome' friend clinging to his neck.

Russia bent down to stroke the animal, "Privet, little doggy. Why are you wearing a coat? Are you cold?" he asked.

The demon was wearing a 'coat' - in a rather fetching tartan. It snapped at Russia's hand, barely missing his fingers.

Russia jumped back and pulled out a large piece of lead piping, "I don't like you!" he told the dog and approached it - albeit it quite cautiously.

The dog leapt and grabbed the metal pipe between its teeth and proceeded to run round and round the room growling viciously.

"That's my pipe!" Russia exclaimed. "England, tell your dog to drop my pipe!"

England jumped onto a sofa as the dog dropped Russia's pipe and snapped at his ankles. "It's not my dog!"

Five minutes later the Nations found themselves standing on the kitchen table protecting their respective ankles whilst the 'demon' ran round and round snapping and snarling.

"This is not what being a superpower is all about!" Alfred all but shouted.

For once, everybody agreed.

"We can't stay up here all day," Arthur said, quite obviously.

They were actually saved by an unexpected source.

Scotland suddenly lifted his head from the table, frowned at them blearily, bent down, picked up the 'dog' and stroked it. "This's ma wee Bertie!" he slurred and then his head dropped and he began snoring again.

"I'm going to kill it…" Russia announced, jumping off the table, brandishing his pipe.

England put a hand on his arm (shuddering as he did so). "Much as I don't like the little swine…" here the dog, nestled in Scotland's arms, snarled at him, "… You can't kill a little dog."

"It is not a dog… it is an evil demon summoned from the pits of hell," Russia said confidently.

"Heroes don't kill little dude dogs, man!" America said, finally getting down from the table.

"I am not a hero," Russia said simply and quite proudly.

"Well you can't kill the dog," England said simply, "My brother would not be happy."

"I am not scared of Scotland," Russia said, however, he looked at the twitching Scotsman with trepidation.

"He'll turn up at your house in his kilt, you really really don't want that," England said.

"Nah man, you don't." America added.

"Non, eet ees 'orrible…"

"Jeez man, I never recovered last time…"

"I still have nightmares."

Russia frowned and lowered his pipe, glancing at the Scotsman warily.

"Right dudes, let's all split up and look for clues… again…" America began.

"No, I think we should all stick together. Japan has gone and taken the only roadworthy vehicle…" England began.

"Hey! What about mine and Den's most excellent car?"

"You mean that one with the bumper hanging off?"

"Hmm, I see what you mean…"

"What about my awesome truck, dude England?" America said.

"That heap of crap isn't roadworthy, I've seen better at car auctions," Prussia said.

"Indeed. I say we ring the police." England said.

"Aw man. That totally sucks. That's boring!" America slumped down in a seat, ignored 'Bertie' who snarled at him and picked disconsolately at his sheriff's star.

"Why are you wearing that star?" England asked.

He didn't get an answer as someone (England wasn't sure who and never got an answer either when he asked later) came charging in and told him that the telephone wasn't working - the line had been cut.

"What the bloody hell?" England stormed out and picked up the phone in the hall.

It was dead. And the cable running to the receiver had been sliced neatly in two.


	3. An Inspector Calls

**Chapter 3**

England stared at the cut wire. "Someone has cut the bloody thing!" he said in utter disbelief.

"That's not a nice thing to do," Russia said over his shoulder and then added, quite chirpily, "Ah well…"

England shuddered. The rest of the Nations crowded around him.

"Didn't someone say they were going to ring the police earlier though? You know - when Switzerland first disappeared?" England asked.

Everyone shrugged and then there was a cacophony of voices…

"I rang for pizza!"

"I rang my embassy!"

"I rang my mum!"

"Who rang their mum?" Prussia asked, genuinely puzzled.

No-one answered.

"Nobody here has a mother," Russia said quietly and sadly.

Italy whimpered again, "I miss my mama!" he said and sobbed on France's shoulder.

"Right blokes. Snap out of it! We all need to stick together. This proves that something nefarious is going on!" England said.

"What's nefarious?" America asked, puzzled.

"Who knows?" Denmark shrugged.

"I don't like you," Russia said to someone.

England valiantly tried to maintain order. "Right. Since we're not going to be able to contact the police, Alfred, Francis and I will question each of you about the disappearance. I want to know where you all were and what you were doing when Switzerland disappeared."

"Why them?" someone asked.

"Yeah, why them and you?"

"Because I am innocent. I know Francis is - he was with me…" England said (someone wolf-whistled, Francis twirled and smiled) "And Alfred is the least nefarious person I know…" he added.

"Yeah man! Er… what's nefarious?" America said.

"Francis has never been innocent!" Prussia said, and laughed lewdly.

Half an hour later…

"Why are you wearing that poncy hat?" America asked England.

England, America and France had taken over the dining room and the plan was that each of the Nations would come in, one by one to be interviewed.

The 'poncy' hat was a deerstalker. England declined to answer America's question. "Just take notes."

"I will take notes!" Francis said. "I can be your secretary!" he said and winked lasciviously.

"Oh god…" England said. When would this day ever end?

First up was Prussia, who swaggered in with Spain behind him.

"I said just one at a time," England said with a sigh. "Why does nobody ever bloody listen?"

"Tony's my lawyer," Prussia said.

"Get lost," England said.

"Eet eez ridiculous!" Francis exclaimed dramatically and proceeded to sharpen his pencil.

Spain took off his apron, and sat down, "I'm here with my client, Gilbert," he began and took out a briefcase.

England rubbed his temples.

Spain opened his briefcase to reveal - tomatoes. "Oh sorry, wrong briefcase," he said. The Spaniard hurried off and brought back another briefcase. The fact that Antonio possessed a briefcase, never mind two briefcases, blew England's mind.

Spain opened the second briefcase, took out a legal pad and passed over a tomato-stained certificate to England.

On it was written "Degree of Law awarded to Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, University of Barcelona."

England choked on his cup of tea. "You. Are. A. Lawyer?" He said, slowly and disbelievingly.

"Si!"

England peered at the certificate, hoping it was some forgery. It didn't appear to be. The date was 1839.

"You qualified as a lawyer back in 1839?"

"Si! I had a spare century and had nothing much to do…"

England and France exchanged glances.

"Okay, right…" England just decided to get on with it, "where were you when Lily first screamed?"

Prussia leaned back in his seat and took a glug of beer, "I was with Den…"

"We'll ask him this later," England said, "Write that down, Francis."

France began to write slowly and painfully, his tongue stuck out, repeating his words, "We. Will. Ask Him. This. Later." He wrote, wincing at the effort of writing in English instead of his beloved French.

"For God's sake!" England took the pad off him and batted the Frenchman around the head. "Bloody idiot. I'll do my own bloody notes."

"I'll do it, man!" America put his hand up.

"No, you won't… you can't spell."

"What do you mean, man?"

"I mean colour, color…"

"And?"

"Oh shut up…"

England flipped through the notepad wincing at the graphic cartoonish images of his fellow Nations who all seemed to be in various states of undress. He came to one page and turned the page round. "What the bloody hell! You bloody pervert! And with Russia as well!"

France dodged out of his way.

England took a gulp of his tea and grimaced. The 'boy' - America - could still not make a decent cup of tea, even after 200 years of training.

He began. "Where were you when Switzerland disappeared?" he asked the grinning Prussian in front of him.

Gilbert leaned back in his chair, "With my mate, Den," he said and glanced at his 'lawyer', Spain.

Spain smiled vaguely.

"I already told you, man!" Gilbert said indignantly.

"Well, I'm asking you again," England said. "And how do you know where you were when Vash disappeared?" England asked and pointed the pen at Gilbert. "Nobody knows when exactly Switzerland disappeared!"

Gilbert leaned forward and took the pen off him, stuck it idly in his left ear, twiddled it around, inspected whatever had been deposited on it and passed it back.

"Think you're clever don't you, Herr Loser?"

England looked at the pen in distaste and made a mental note to dip it in bleach later.

"Hon hon hon leetle Gilbert… you have no idea where that pen has been… oh oui!" France chuckled, his eyes glinting.

"Fuckin' 'ell!" Gilbert yelped and rubbed his ear and really really wished he hadn't stuck that pen in it. He might actually have to have a wash later.

"Bloody dirty foreigners," England muttered, wiping the pen on the sofa. "In answer to your question, Herr Beilschmidt, I don't think I'm clever, I bloody know I'm clever."

England waved his cup at America, who had been throwing himself around the room in what he thought were ninja fighting moves. He looked as if he were having an embolism. "Hey! Kung fu Panda! Get me a fresh cup of tea. Leave the teabag in longer than two seconds this time. In fact, this time use a teapot and just bring that."

"With three sugars?" America asked, taking the cup off him.

"Do I look like a bloody builder?"

America frowned and considered this.

England waved him away.

"Ah the Engleesh and their cups of tea! It took me four centuries to perfect the art of a good cup of tea," France told America.

"I don't know what you just said," America said.

England pointed to the door, "Go make a pot of tea with three teabags. Make sure you boil the water this time. Bring it back here. Go."

Gilbert sniggered, "Alfie's just a teaboy!"

Alfred muttered something about 'justice' and 'eagle' and slouched out.

"And don't slouch!" England called after him. He turned back to the grinning Prussian. "And you can stop grinning. Where were you really when Switzerland was abducted?"

Gilbert took a deep breath and said, "It's like this…" and broke into a long diatribe in German, together with arms waving, jumping up to march up and down a bit, plonking himself back down shouting something which sounded suspiciously like 'Doodlebug' and 'Bismark' and then finally stopped.

France shook his head, "Terrible… terrible…" he muttered. Whether from the actual German language or from what Gilbert said, is unsure.

England threw down his pen, "Bloody kraut! Don't talk bloody German at me!" he yelled.

"Oui monsieur, eet eez 'orrible… so coarse… and I zink Monsieur Russie is outside!" France said.

Gilbert's red eyes glittered evilly, "Oh je suis désolé." Gilbert said in an outrageous French accent and then swished his imaginary long hair back. He fluttered his eyelashes at England.

"Non!" France yelled.

"You said you were clever, Monsieur Angleterre?" Gilbert said. And then said, "Vous ne gagné la guerre parce que vous avez refusé de se rendre. Nous nous sommes ennuyés de vous combattre. Et vos scones goût terrible!"

(Translated this meant - You only won the war because you refused to surrender. We got bored fighting you. And your scones taste awful.)

France gasped and hoped England's tenuous grasp of the French language would not translate this outrage.

Gilbert continued in much the same vein - including a statement about the bombing of South East England how "la Luftwaffe sont conquérants".

England help up a hand to halt him as he tried desperately to write it down. Like all his countrymen he had done a cursory course in French at school, but unlike his countrymen he'd had centuries to learn. However, Arthur's grasp of French never got much beyond "Ou est la station?" and "Je m'appelle". But he still assumed when he went to France that if he talked loudly and slowly and pointed a lot he would be understood.

With his tongue stuck out in concentration, Arthur attempted to write out what Gilbert had said.

Gilbert nodded in satisfaction at England's complete annihilation of the French language. France broke down by England's second line. "Mon dieu!" France exclaimed, in tears, "Eet eez a travesty! Do not go on! My beautiful language. The language of Sartre, of poetry, of love, cruelly destroyed…" France flounced out, swishing his hair.

"Well I say! What's wrong with him?" England stared after France. "He's always telling me I should learn French!"

Gilbert laughed, "Dunno man! Sounds okay to me, eh Tony?" he turned to his lawyer.

Antonio looked up from rummaging through his briefcase, "I just found an old recipe for paella I'd forgotten about," he said cheerily.

Gilbert stood up, "Well I'll let you get back to your embroidery. See yer later, Herr Loser of Loserville. I've got a crate of beer calling my name. My statement's there in black and white, eh Tony?"

Antonio looked up, "Ah si!" he said.

Prussia passed America who was just coming in - the American carefully carrying a teapot.

"Yo Alfie dude!" Gilbert yelled (he had no indoor voice, England noted) and slapped him on the back causing Alfred to drop the teapot.

"Bloody foreigners," England said - again. "Go and make another bloody pot!" he said as America haplessly poured the remaining two drops of tea into England's cup. "And tell Francis to get back in here…"

Arthur paced up and down with his hands behind his back, "The game is afoot!" he muttered to himself, trying to ignore Spain's gabbling about a long lost paella recipe.

The door opened and America came back in, or as Arthur was dismayed to see, he leapt 'ninja-style' back in.

"Where's my pot of tea?" Arthur asked.

"Keep your underwear on, it's coming…" America said, karate-chopping his way around the room.

Francis came in, closely followed by Italy. "I made you a nice pot of tea," France said, pouring the beverage out into a china cup.

Italy snivelled next to him.

"What the bloody hell's up with him?" England asked.

"I'm scared, Signore England!" Italy said, "Maybe it will be me next time!"

"Hmm… Perhaps it will…" England murmured but took a sip of the tea and then spluttered it out all over the hapless Italian. "What in the name of God's green earth is this supposed to be?"

"Chamomile tea - to calm you down, Angleterre," France explained.

"Bugger off, you stupid frog-face. When have I ever drank this rubbish? Get me Yorkshire Tea or good old PG Tips…"

"I told you…" America said, back-flipping around the room.

"And why on earth are you kung-fooing around the bloody room? Stop it, you're making me dizzy," England said.

America karate-kicked two inches from Italy, who cowered on the sofa, "Because I think this bad dude is out to get us Nation dudes and I ain't gonna let him get me," America answered.

"I wish Luddy was here," Italy whimpered.

"Yes, so do I. And I never thought I'd say that. But we could do with somebody with a bit of sense," England said.

"Maybe he's been kidnapped as well?" America said, completely not reading the situation.

Italy's lips quivered, "Do you think so, Mr America?" he asked tremulously.

America loved being called 'Mr America'. It made him (in his own little head) sound like a real superhero. "Hell yeah, man!" he yelled and back-flipped back across the room and ended up entangled with some curtains which he mistook for an attacker and karate-chopped.

England sighed. "I doubt it, Italy," he said, "Who would kidnap you?" he said quietly. "Besides only one Nation has gone missing… so far."

"You think there will be more?" Italy asked, looking around the room.

"Well I don't think Switzerland just wandered off by himself," England said.

"Something big and scary took him down, man! It had to be! The guy was packing so much metal, it had to be a gang of terrorists!" America yelled.

England shook his head. "I doubt that very much, Alfred. Terrorists? Here? Right…" he shook Italy off his arm where the smaller Nation was clinging and turned dramatically to the room (which was now empty as America backflipped out - obviously imagining himself to be some kind of action hero), "Now for the next lot of questioning. Feliciano, get off my bloody arm! France!" he yelled, "Get your arse in here, and bring in Lily…"

"Why Lily?" France asked England when he returned with the said small female Nation. He whispered in the Englishman's ear, and being so close, Arthur could smell the Frenchman's odious cologne.

"She was in Switzerland's room moments before he disappeared; she's a vital witness," England whispered back and took control of himself, shoving the Frenchman back a little. "Will you bloody well observe some personal space, you frog?"

France shuffled back and smiled at Lily, who was sat on the sofa. She tried, unsuccessfully to ignore Italy who was in a foetal position next to her.

"Guten tag, Mr England and Mr France," she said softly. "Is there any news about my bruder?" Her big eyes widened innocently as she spoke and England immediately felt that interrogating her was a waste of time. There was no way this young girl could have anything to do with Switzerland's disappearance.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Lily, but myself and the others are trying to find out what happened," England paused not knowing how to proceed.

France took the opportunity to chime in, "Oui, do not worry my leetle Lily, zis case is in our capable hands! My hands in particular are very capable of many different things, ah yes!"

"Bloody lecherous frog!" England was appalled. "Can you not take your mind off sex for one bloody second? This is serious!" Out of sheer consternation, he gave France a dead arm. Served him right for embarrassing him in front of a lady.

Liechtenstein looked alarmed, "Mr England, are you feeling alright? Your face has gone very red."

England took a deep breath, "I'm quite alright, Miss Lily. Ever so sorry for that outburst." He scratched his neck, which had flushed along with his face and took the handkerchief out of his top pocket and wiped his face.

"We wanted to ask you some questions, Madamoiselle," France said quietly.

England looked France up and down, an expression of mild surprise on his face that his colleague was actually taking this seriously.

"I know zis must be hard for you, wiz your brother disappearing, but we would just like to know exactly what you saw."

Lily nodded, patting the plush sofa cushion beside her, "Please take a seat, both of you. I would be very happy to answer both of your questions."

England muttered to France, "Not you…" and sat beside Lily, forcing France to take the armchair opposite where the Frenchman lounged with consummate grace.

"Now first of all," England began, "Could you describe the ghost that you think you saw?"

Lily closed her eyes, "It was a real ghost, Mr England!" she said, "It looked like a young man, I would say, but very blurry. He looked familiar and was wearing grey clothes. I don't remember much about his face and when he saw me he just disappeared into the wall. It was only then that I realised what had happened and that's when I screamed."

"Zis ghost, did he seem solid? Or translucent?" France said.

"He did seem slightly see through, like he was not really there," Lily said. "Even while I was looking at him it was as if…" she paused, "As if… he wasn't truly there. Oh.. And the air was very cold as well…"

England felt France's eyes on him, and looked up into his knowing gaze, instantly feeling annoyed. What does he bloody know that I don't, he thought.

England cleared his throat, "Alright. Next question - did you notice anything strange about Switzerland's actions today?" England almost added, "Apart from the fact that he's as insane as the rest of us." But didn't.

"No, bruder has been the same as usual. Possibly grumpier, but that is because he does not like travelling especially with Mr Austria."

"He did not zay anyzing about wanting to leave or to go home?" France asked.

What a bloody weird question, England thought. "Of course he wouldn't go home yet! He hasn't claimed back his expenses!" England exclaimed and gave France a 'look' and shook his head.

"Of course not. He wouldn't leave without me," Lily seemed affronted at the idea.

"Well, if you can think of anything else that may help, please let us know. And of course we will let you know if we find anything." England said and got up with much less difficulty than he did getting out of Italy's sports car and motioned to France to follow him.

"Thank you, Mr England! Auf wiedersehen!" Lily said. Quite cheerily, England thought.

"So, France… what do you think?" He asked.

"I zink that little innocent Lily is not so innocent…" France said.

"Bloody pervert! I meant about this case!"

"Zat is what I mean too, mon ami. She was very calm for one who is being questioned about her brother's disappearance, non?"

"Well…" England scratched his head.

"And she said… "both" of your questions… she was not surprised at any of our questions and she seemed to have her answers all ready…"

"Of course she did! Because she's innocent, you idiot frog!" England shouted.

"She knew what we would ask her, mon cher!"

"But… if you think it was her… Liechtenstein… But why… her own bruder… er brother…" England ruminated.

France put a hand on his shoulder, "We should not jump to conclusions just yet, mon cher. But zis is suspicious is it not? Who is next?"

"What the bloody hell do you mean, who is next?" England spluttered.

France ignored him, "Who is the person who hates Switzerland ze most?"

England considered this - there were actually quite a few candidates. In fact, most of the Nations had grudges against each other going back centuries. And then they both said in unison, "Austria!"

"This is utterly outrageous!" Austria was evidently not pleased about being interrogated. He sat in a chair and swished his baton around. Why he had a conductor's baton, neither France nor England would ask.

"Indeed it is," England began, "You don't like Mr Switzerland do you, Austria?"

"No I do not, but then again neither do you… or you, Francis," Austria said to each of them.

"I adore everyone!" Francis exclaimed and poured himself a glass of wine.

"Yes, well… we'll ignore that, shall we?" England said.

"I've yet to meet anyone, apart from Miss Lily of course, who likes him. He's mean with money, he does nothing but moan and he has aggressive tendencies towards his neighbours."

"Really? That sounds very familiar!" England turned to France, "Write all this down, Francis," he said and took a sip of tea. The said beverage must have been past its optimum drinking temperature because the Englishman grimaced and stood up and paced up and down. "Is it possible that after your argument at Christmas…"

"How do you know about that?" Austria said, he stopped waving his baton and narrowed his eyes.

"Never you mind… I put it to you that after your argument with Vash both at Christmas and this morning…"

"Outrageous! That was no argument… that was just a disagreement!"

England sighed and paced the length of the room before suddenly turning heel to face Austria and France and said in a dramatic tone, pointing an accusatory finger at Austria, "I put it to you, Roderich Von Thingymajig Edelstein, that you have murdered and disposed of the body of your lifelong enemy, Vash Zwingli!"

"This is a disgrace!" Austria shouted, jumping up.

"Mon cher! Angleterre! You are so masterful!" Francis said, his eyes shining. "Eeet eez just like…"

"Sherlock? Poirot?" England asked, hopefully. He was actually going for Sherlock Holmes, although he didn't really think of France as Watson.

"Non! I was thinking of Miss Jane Marple mysteries… ah oui!"

"Idiot frog!"

"My full name is Count Roderich Von Habsburg Edelstein!" Austria said, "And I will not stand for these accusations against my good name!"

"It's quite a name as well…" Francis said. "Where did you get it from?"

Austria attempted to leave but found his exit blocked by England and France, "Not so fast, you murdering Kraut!" England said.

"I am not a Kraut! I am Austrian!" Austria said, utterly appalled. "I will be in touch with my embassy, this is an outrage!"

England whispered to France, "I can't think of an insult for an Austrian… Kraut? Jerry?"

France frowned at each insult, "Boche?" He suggested.

England looked at him, "What? What in Nelson's bloody name are you on about? Bloody frogs have no idea…"

France shrugged, "Do we need to call him a name, mon cher?"

"It adds to the interrogation technique," England whispered.

France's eyes widened, "Ah I see! Eet eez, as you say, good cop, bad cop…?"

Suddenly the double doors were flung open, shoving the three Nations out of the way, America shoved his head in, "Dudes! When you've stopped playing Cagney and Laceup or whatever it's called… you should come see this!"

"Thank you, young America… I was about to fight my way out!" Austria declared.

England looked the Austrian up and down, "Ha! You think so, do you?"

Austria squared up to him, usually not much of a fighter, he was angry and this had taken away his normal aversion to any aggression. "Ja! I do!"

"Well you can't beat me… probably Francy-pants here, but I'd like to see you take me down… I used to box for Oxford!" England declared.

"What? Making cardboard boxes?" America said innocently and momentarily distracted.

"Boxing! You damn fools!" England explained and took a boxers pose.

Austria stepped back, "You don't scare me, England," he said.

"No? Why? What are you going to do? Get your ex-wife to beat me up?" England said.

"Ah oui… Miss Hungary is all woman… with some man as well I think… she is gorgeous… and she's behind you, Angleterre!"

"Fucking hell!" England almost jumped three feet into the air and spun round to find America just grinning at him with his arms folded.

"One day I'll teach you to fight proper, Engerland!" America said, "But you should all come see this, dudes…"

"Why? Did you drop your burger?" England said.

"Nope… Sweden's gone…" America said, his eyes shining with the excitement of it all.

"Fuck…"

**Author's Notes:**

**Thank you for those reading and reviewing. **

**Boche was a derogatory term for Germans by the French particularly in the first world war.**


	4. Deutschland 999

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

**Author's Note: Sorry for the very long hiatus on this story, but White Wedding got in the way as well the usual - life, etc. But onwards…**

Chapter 4 - Deutschland 999

"Everybody needs to stop panicking!" England said as they entered the kitchen. "America and I will drive his damned Hummy thingy to the village and get the police."

"Hummer, man! It's a Hummer…" America said.

"Whatever…"

"You can take our car, if you want," Prussia said.

"It's not your car and no, we won't because it's a wreck…"

Spain was about to say something.

But England stopped him with a look, "Don't even… I don't think you'll be getting your deposit back from the hire car company," he told him.

"Come on, America. Let's do this," England said.

America nodded enthusiastically amidst the rest of the Nations' mumblings.

"I don't know what the panic is…"

"I bet Sweden has just gone to find Switzy."

"He's probably putting some flatpack furniture together."

Arthur and Alfred ignored them all and strode out to the driveway.

"You never call me America! You usually call me Alfred, or Alfie or the 'boy' or something…" America was saying, still all heroic enthusiasm. "Are we really going to get the police?"

"Yes, we should have done this before instead of thinking we could solve it ourselves. Something is afoot, Alfred. This is serious," England said but then his heart sank as they stepped outside.

The tyres of the Hummer had been slashed. All four of them.

England looked at the Hummer, to the wreck that was Prussia and Denmark's stolen car with its burst tyres and then to the Spain's hire car which had no back window and no rear doors.

"Aw man!" America said.

"Now we can panic…" England said.

* * *

The large kitchen which was once the hub of the house - where perhaps 20+ servants met and ate food and prepared food for their masters/mistresses upstairs, had become the unofficial 'headquarters' for this conference. It was also the place where the alcohol was.

Wee Bertie snarled from Hamish's unconscious lap.

"I thought you were off to the village to get the polizei?" someone asked as America and England slouched back in.

"Well… that's a good question. The tyres of America's hire car have been slashed. This means we are stuck here," Arthur told them.

There was a moment's silence as this sank in.

Someone (probably Italy) sobbed.

"That can't be an accident," someone said quietly.

"If Sweden is not found safe and well, there will be no presents from Santa this year!" Finland announced, "For any of you!" he said, looking at each of them.

"Fuck me! I've been really good this year!" Prussia yelled.

"What about that stain on Ludwig's carpet, man?" Denmark reminded him.

"Yeah well…"

"…Or that six ton of manure you had delivered to Speccy's house?"

"I knew it was you!" Austria shouted and launched himself at Prussia.

"Absolute bloody hooligans!" England muttered surveying the scene. He turned to America, who was watching with his mouth open and his eyes glazed, "Alfred!"

"Yo!" America said, snapping to attention.

"Who was where when Sweden disappeared?" England asked. Obviously they were going to have to sort this out themselves. Whoever was doing this had them trapped.

Francis took out his notebook, flipped passed a few pages - one of them a particularly lewd drawing of Austria tied to a chair - and licked his pencil (quite lewdly) in readiness.

"Who what where when? What, Artie?" America said, utterly confused.

England sighed, holding a hand up to shut up Russia who was crowding him trying to say something.

Spain shook his head sadly, and was stirring something tomatoey in a large pot, Italy stood next to him sniffing the contents and looking sad, Lily was sipping a cup of tea, Prussia and Austria rolled on the floor fighting.

"Who. Was. Where. In other words. Who was in what location? When Sweden. Disappeared." England said slowly.

Russia, who was stood next to England, hopping from foot to foot like a large child, held up a hand, "I know, I know!" he said.

England turned to him, "What?"

"It was Gilbert! He is an idiot! He did it. He did it all. Like he started World War Two and World War One. He is a very very very very very bad ex…" Russia emphasised the 'ex' "… Nation."

Prussia let go of Austria and jumped to his feet, "I'm bloody not! And I didn't do nothing!" he yelled. But kept his distance from Russia.

Russia glared at him, a weird purple glow emanated from the large Arctic Nation's shoulders, "I don't like you, Gilbert. Mr England," he turned back to England, "You should arrest Prussia now because he is a criminal…"

England turned to Gilbert, "You did not do anything. Not you didn't do nothing… where the hell do these bloody foreigners learn English grammar? It's appalling!" England said.

"It sure is!" America said.

Russia grabbed England by the lapels and lifted him off his feet, "You will arrest Gilbert for this outrage, I demand it and so does Mr Pipe. And you will find Mr Sweden. Because Mr Pipe and I…" Russia cocked his head and his purple eyes bored straight into England's green ones, ensuring the Englishman understood, "… want some presents from Santa and both Mr Pipe and I will not be happy if Santa does not come down our chimney."

"Honhonhon," France giggled, making a note, "Does. Not. Come. Down. Our. Chimney." He repeated slowly as he wrote down every word.

England slowly extricated himself from Russia's grasp, "Well… I say… Ahem… As you asked politely and with the proper grammar…"

Russia grinned, dropping the Englishman and picking up his vodka glass.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt! You are under arrest for the disappearance and foul play of Vash Zwingli and Berwald whatshisname…" England said hurriedly.

"No way man! You can't shove me in one of your POW camps! This ain't the war and you're not a policeman!" Prussia yelled at full volume.

"Do you have to be so bloody loud?" England yelled back, "I can't hear myself think."

"Dude man! You gotta come and see this!" America yelled from the other side of the kitchen.

"Why is everybody bloody shouting?" England shouted, his stress levels going through the ceiling.

America grabbed England and shoved him through the pantry door, "Look at this, dude…" he said and pointed.

"Is that… blood?" England gasped.

"Oh mon dieu!" France said and promptly fainted behind him.

"Big dude Swedenland bought it, man!" America exclaimed.

"He bought blood?" England asked incredulously. He bent down and poked his finger in the sticky substance. It certainly looked like blood. There was a sticky puddle of it, not a lot but certainly enough to suspect foul play.

"Nah man, I mean the guy's a goner," America said. Quietly - for once.

England, still ignoring France's prone body behind him, said equally quietly, "Don't say anything to the others, Alfred. I think you are right."

America grinned and high-fived the air. England never ever told him he was right.

England examined the substance on his finger, "Hmmm…" he said.

"What are you three doing in there?" someone said from the other side of the door.

"Yeah… is there any booze in there, man?"

England looked around. They were in a pantry of some kind but there was another door further back slightly ajar.

"A secret entrance!" America said.

"Ah oui…" France murmured, finally regaining consciousness and sitting up, "Eeet eez special…" he promptly fainted again when England waved his red-stained finger at him.

"It's hardly bloody secret if we can see it, is it?" England pointed out.

The door to the kitchen opened and Gilbert's evil little face peered in, "Kesese! What are you doing in there, yer bunch of girlies?"

"We've found a pantry and… er…."

"Sweden was in here earlier!" Finland said, joining them.

"Was he in here when he disappeared?" England said, hurriedly standing over the puddle of blood. It wouldn't do for everyone to panic and faint like France.

"I don't know…" Finland said and his lip trembled. "He came in here to get some food and then…"

"And then somebody got hold of him and ripped his head off and shoved what was left in a jam jar," Russia said chirpily, also joining them, making them stand way too close than England would ordinarily have liked.

"Jam!" England said and licked his red finger. Yes, it was jam. Strawberry. He shook his head at America. Who was oblivious.

"Hey guys! Anyone got a torch?" America yelled.

France was just coming to consciousness - again - and stood up, "I feel very queer," he said to Russia.

Russia stepped away from him hurriedly. Being in a confined space with a 'queer' France did not appeal to Ivan.

Russia reached up to one of the high shelves, and grabbed a bottle to hit France over the head with.

France took it from him, "Ah Russie! Je t'adore! Eet eez wine! Zis is why you and I have always been close!"

Russia grunted, he didn't like the idea of being 'close' to France at all.

"Dudes!" America yelled, "Who's got a torch?" He repeated. Honestly, was anybody even listening to the hero?

"What have you found?" England said, standing behind his ex-colony.

"Dunno… a cellar…" America said standing at the open 'secret' door. He shivered. "It looks cold and dark, Artie… I wish I had my gun," he added.

It did indeed look cold and dark. The cellar steps went down into blackness. There was a musty evil dank smell rising up to greet them. There was an aura of forbidding menace. Which could not all be attributed to Russia who stood closely behind them.

"It's always the young, good-looking one who dies first in the horror movies, isn't it?" Russia said and smiled creepily at Alfred.

America was about to say he was glad Russia thought he was young and good-looking but shut his mouth quickly.

They were about to step down into the gloom, Russia looking positively cheery about it when there was a shout: "Germany's here!"

"Oh good…" England said, somewhat relieved. One: because he didn't want to go down the cellar steps, two: because Germany was quite level-headed and sensible and might sort out this whole thing.

"Ah well, we'll go down there later eh?" America said, clapping England on the shoulder.

"Da!" Russia said with relish. "And we'll take Germany's body with us!"

"You mean we'll take Germany with us?" England said he tried to get past Russia's bulk.

"Da, of course… with his body…" Russia grinned.

"Hmmm…" England frowned.

Italy practically ran them all over in his haste to get to the front door and fling it open.

"Luddy!" he yelled and flung himself at Germany. "I missed you so much… Mr Switzerland and Mr Sweden have disappeared and nobody knows where they are but we think they have met with an untimely end… what's an untimely end, Germany? Germany will you play football with me?"

Germany extricated himself from Italy's grasp and paid off the taxi driver. Romano, who had travelled with Germany shook his head disdainfully at his brother.

"What? Switzerland and Sweden are… what?" Germany said slowly.

"Don't let that taxi go!" England called. He was the last to get out of the castle as everybody seemed to be in slow-motion or just plain stupid, he thought.

"Too late, man…" America said as the taxi wended its way down the long driveway.

"We are trapped forever!" someone said, dramatically.

Italy burst into fresh tears and buried his head in Germany's chest.

Germany tried to step away.

"Pull yourself together, fratello," Romano told his brother.

"Why were you in a taxi with Germany?" England asked.

"Because he shared a taxi with me," Germany said.

"Well that's obvious," England rolled his eyes.

Germany shrugged.

"We're not trapped, we still have our car!" Prussia pointed at the wreck he and Denmark had driven up in.

"The tyres are burst," England pointed out.

"What do you mean, you're trapped?" Germany asked. He looked confused.

Welcome to the party, England thought.

"Dudes have disappeared. There was a demon on the stairs, but I, as the awesome one, vanquished it!" Prussia told his brother.

"I think we will find their heads later," Russia said chirpily.

Germany still looked confused. He looked at England.

"Lily says she saw a ghost," England rolled his eyes to emphasise how silly this sounded. "Switzerland went charging in with his rifle and he's disappeared. We searched the building, no sign…"

"With my help!" America said.

"With his help… and then Sweden went into the pantry…" England continued.

"What for?" Germany asked.

"What do you mean 'what for'?"

"Why did he go into the pantry?"

"Who cares?" England was losing his patience. Germany's look of bemusement was making him feel a bit stupid. "Anyway, Sweden has disappeared as well."

"Well they are probably just doing their paperwork," Germany said in that ridiculously no-nonsense voice of his.

England wanted to hit him.

"I think it's more complicated than that," England said.

"Ja! There was a demon and Japan ran away like a scared little girl in Italy's poncy car!" Prussia said. "And then some dude slashed the tyres on Alfie's crap Hummer," he added and pointed dramatically.

Germany raised an eyebrow and pushed Italy away from him. Italy began to tell Romano in a breathless manner exactly what England had already said.

"We were chased by a demon from hell, dude!" America told him.

"It was a dog…" England explained. "I mean a dog didn't slash the tyres or do all those things but the demon thing was a dog."

"It was not Dekravac," Russia also explained but was staring at Germany with very intense violet eyes. He didn't explain who Dekravac was.

Germany looked from one to the other. "Well, I think you are all being ridiculous," he said. "Have you called the police?"

"Oh well… we never thought of that!" England said sarcastically. "Of course! You're so bloody clever! Mr Genius Germany, a brain the size of a planet… who'd have thought! Ring the police! Of course we were going to ring the police but nobody's phone will work and the phone wire has been cut!"

"Are you sure?" Germany said, taking out his own phone and looking at it. There was no signal.

"Yes we're bloody sure!" England said. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

All the while, Austria was playing the piano in the music room and the music had reached a crescendo. Someone was singing along tunelessly and 'Bertie', the demon dog was yapping wildly.

It sounded like a lunatic asylum.

Germany raised an eyebrow again.

Russia waved his blood-stained mobile phone around, "My phone also does not work, even though Mr Pipe tried to fix it," he said sadly. He fixed Germany with another 'look'.

"Well, I'll repair my brother's car and take it into the village and get help…" Germany said in a very condescending manner, as if they were all imbeciles.

"You're a hero!" Italy said.

Germany waved them all away, gave his suitcase to England to take in, "Get me a beer," he said to Prussia, and rolled up his sleeves.

England flung himself back into the castle and threw Germany's suitcase down. "I bloody hate him. Bloody Ludwig von Idiot… who does he think he is? Have I called the police? Does he think I'm stupid?"

"He sure does!" America said, clapping him on the shoulder as he went past.

Everybody stomped back in. The show was over.

"I think Germany's right… they're probably doing their paperwork," someone said.

"Yes, Arthur's just getting hysterical…"

"Ghost? Who believes in ghosts?"

"Switzerland would never leave Lily…"

It was all rubbish, England thought. And he knew they knew it. He went into the kitchen to make tea.

Spain was still stirring something tomatoey on the stove and singing something about Sicily. Romano was watching him and looking very unhappy.

France was drinking from a wine bottle.

Scotland was still unconscious. Bertie was still on his lap, but yapping ferociously.

"Can someone shut up that dog?" England said.

No-one answered.

Italy ran past him with a bottle of beer, "I'm going to take this to Luddy!" he said.

"Hey! He's my brother, I was going to take it," Prussia said.

England sat at the table, he took out his notebook with all the interviews in it and began to draw a map of the castle. "I don't care what Germany said, this mystery is still not solved," he said.

"Oh give it a rest, yer big girl," Prussia said with a leer.

"Yes, England. I think Germany is right," Spain said absent-mindedly, tasting his tomatoes.

"You have no idea what he said!" England exclaimed.

"Non, he does not, old friend," France said, putting out a hand and resting it on England's.

Finland shook his head, "I cannot believe Sweden would just go off somewhere to do his paperwork. I mean he's very conscientious about it…"

"I'll be he is!" Prussia said, winking at Finland.

Finland shuddered.

"Hey! That is my line!" France said, appalled.

"You don't understand… I think this thing isn't over yet…" England said.

"Nyet, it is not," Russia said, coming into the kitchen and wiping his hands.

England fought the urge to scream as there was a sudden screeching. Until he realised it was the kettle - it was an old whistling kettle placed on the stove and it was obviously boiling.

They all jumped, startled and stared at each other.

"It's just the kettle. Someone pour a pot of tea," England said.

But then the door burst open and Italy came bounding in and England realised it was the Italian who was screeching.

"It's Luddy! He's gone!" he sobbed.

England leapt to his feet and went outside. Surely, the dim Italian was wrong? The German was probably just unpacking his suitcase and ironing his clothes or picking fault with his room. He could even be in the music room telling Austria how rubbish it all was.

But as he got outside, he realised why Italy thought Germany had 'disappeared'. The car Prussia and Denmark had clattered up the drive in was up on a car jack (England wondered where Germany had got that from) and the back wheel was still spinning.

There was also Germany's jacket laid on the driveway. It was in shreds.

England held it up, "Oh dear…"

****To be Continued *****

Reviews are very welcome.


	5. A Room Without a View

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: AngelicDemon678, Mitsukochan1, AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

**Chapter 5 - A Room without a View**

England held up Germany's jacket. It looked as if someone or something had torn it from the Nation's back.

England looked up to see the other Nations staring at him.

Italy pointed at him, "That's Luddy's jacket!"

"England-dude!" America exclaimed.

"I know… it looks bad doesn't it?" England said, holding up the shredded jacket.

"Dude you're holding up his tattered jacket, it looks like fool play to me!" America yelled.

"You mean foul play," England sighed.

"That as well…" America said with confidence.

"Don't be an idiot, I just came out here!" England protested.

He looked around, everyone was looking at him with great distrust. Even Spain, who was holding a spoon dripping in tomato juice. Russia frowned at him and shook his head. France leaned against the doorway trying to look casual, holding a bottle of wine.

"It was me!" Italy squeaked.

"You Italy?"

"I found he was gone, I left him to change the tyre and now he's gone as well!" Italy ran up and down waving his arms in the air.

"Someone slap him," England said.

Russia stepped forward eagerly with a raised fist.

"Not you."

"Oh you'd like wouldn't you? Kill us all off one by one," America said.

"What? But I…"

But England didn't get to finish as Romano stepped forward and slapped his brother knocking him to the ground.

Italy laid on the ground looking up at the sky. "I might stay here," he said wistfully.

England turned his attention away from the idiotic Italies for a moment, "I'm telling you! Whoever snatched Switzerland and Sweden have also taken Germany," he told them.

"Not that old hazelnut!" America said.

"You mean chestnut," England corrected him.

France came towards him and put a hand on his shoulder, "Mon ami, we all know that you hate Germany…"

"I do but…"

There was a sob from Italy who ran into the castle.

"…But I didn't do anything! I was with you lot… drinking tea…"

"We're just messing with you," America said, smacking him so hard on the shoulder that he nearly fell over. "Come on, guys. We need to split up and look for Germania-dude. I bet he's still in the grounds. I bet he's gone for a walk around the garden to look at the flowers or some rubbish."

England doubted this very much. Germany was not a man who just wandered off around a garden to look at flowers. Not when there was something to be fixed.

"I think we should have a look for him," England agreed.

"I bet he's in the garage looking for a screwdriver or something manly," America said.

"Hmmm…" England said. This was all becoming a bit common.

America was still shaking his cellphone and staring at the screen, "Still no signal, dude," he told England sadly. "I was on level 295 of Angry Birds."

"I'm not interested in your crappy birds saga. This is serious," England pulled America away and gestured to France. "Listen, someone is kidnapping nations and I believe we are being picked off one by one."

"I zink so too, mon ami!"

"Yes, and I think we should keep an eye out on the others… America what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

England's sudden exclamation was due to America pulling off his shirt, revealing a snow-white vest and flexing his muscles. "I'm the hero, dude! In all the movies, the hero always wears a vest!"

"Thank God I used Daz on your undergarments, I really don't want others think I send you out looking a scruff," England muttered.

America ran back in the castle, charged upstairs yelling something incoherent. "I hope he hasn't brought a bloody gun with him," England said to France.

"I think you are right. I think there is a psychopath dismembering nations," a voice said behind them.

England and France jumped half a mile into the air.

It was Russia. He smiled at them. He held up his pipe and shook it. England and France watched in fascination. It swooped over their heads - almost taking their heads off with it.

"I really need to… Can't… Must not… I'm not allowed…" Russia seemed to be in turmoil as he wrestled with the pipe.

England went pale. He found that he and France were inexplicably holding hands - no, actually they gripped each others hands in fright.

Russia's face was scrunched up as he fought with his pipe.

"Oh please dear God…" England muttered and prayed for America to re-appear before he and France were the next victims.

"Ah there we are!" Russia grinned victoriously as he shook his lead pipe and a pile of boiled sweets fell out onto the grass.

England relaxed and hurriedly took his hand out of France's.

America came charging back out of the door. He had tied a bandana around his head and had a machine gun in one hand and a light sabre in the other.

England almost fell over in shock.

"Is that a Kalash?" Russia asked.

"Eh?"

"Kalashnikov? Nyet it is not… What does it say on the side? Oh…" Russia looked very disappointed. "Fisher Price… I do not know this brand," Russia asked. "Is it China made?"

America looked momentarily put out, but then he grinned, "The bad guy dude won't know any difference," he said.

"I can tell a difference. Of course these people…" here Russia waved his pipe at France and England, who both ducked, "…Won't be able to tell…"

"We're arranging a search party to look for Germany," England told Russia.

"I do not like Germany but I would gladly look for his remains," Russia replied, chewing on a sweet.

England was quite annoyed that Russia had not offered France nor himself one, but he didn't say anything.

America leapt back into the castle and yelled at the top of his voice, "Hey you guys, we're going to look for Germany's body!"

England covered his face, "Oh God…" he muttered. The 'boy' had all the subtlety of a flying brick.

Russia stomped off round the corner and towards the back garden.

At the rear of the house/castle was a large rose garden and a topiary.

England had always thought the topiary - a line of large clipped shrubs in various shapes - was eerie. But today, in the company of Russia, it was downright creepy.

"That's a bunny!" Russia exclaimed, utterly delighted, pointing at a shrub clipped in a rather haphazard way.

England frowned and squinted.

It was also foggy. So the bloody things seemed to float above the ground.

He looked around for America but couldn't find him. France was at his elbow, drinking from a bottle of wine and looking as if he were just on a stroll down by the Seine.

"That one looks like a bear!" Russia said and then added, "With claws!"

England looked at where the Russian was pointing but didn't see anything that looked remotely like a bear. He'd always wondered about this castle. Scotland lived here for some of the year and seemed to take great delight in cutting the shrubs into rude shapes when England visited.

"We're supposed to be looking for Germany," England said. "The garage is this way…" he told them and headed off round the side of the castle.

"Ah da! Perhaps his head is in there."

England shuddered.

"I'm going to search the castle from top to bottom!" America yelled from somewhere.

"Good idea," England muttered. He was tempted to tell America that it wasn't a castle, that it was actually a 'house' but couldn't be bothered.

"Pru, Den and my main man, Finlandia is coming with me!"

"Yes, whatever," England said, actually feeling a bit left out. It was like the old PE lessons again. He felt he'd picked the wrong 'team'.

He was further convinced of this when two idiotic voices joined them. "Fratello, stop whining. We'll find potato bastard."

"Damn…" England muttered.

"Oh Roma, you really think so?" Feliciano came around the corner with his idiot brother.

"Look there's Tea Bastard and Wine Bastard," Romano was saying. He then muttered something to his brother which sounded like "… and Vodka Bastard…" but England really hoped for their sakes that Russia hadn't heard that.

Russia hadn't heard Romano, but he did see them. He held out his pipe to Feliciano, "Do you want a sweet?" he asked Italy. He actually looked concerned at the smaller Nation, who had red puffy eyes.

Italy almost jumped into his brother's arms in shock.

Russia frowned.

"You didn't offer me a damned sweet!" England said indignantly.

"I don't like you," Russia said simply.

England snapped his mouth shut.

The two Italies timidly held out their hands for sweets. Russia smiled benevolently. "I like the Italies," he said. "I want them to be my pets."

"Aaaargh!" Feliciano screamed and ran back towards the castle, "I'm going to stay with Papa Austria!" he yelled.

"Don't call me that!" came an indignant voice from the inside the music room as the playing of Mozart came to a shuddering halt.

"Do you really zink we will find Germany in here?" France asked England.

They were stood in the garage. It was a huge place filled with lawnmowers - one of them a ride-on contraption that England hoped Prussia and Denmark did not find. He'd heard of their propensity for riding such vehicles inside people's houses. And although Scotland was still passed out on the kitchen table, there was no point incurring his wrath once he did wake up. There was also a chainsaw, which England hurriedly stood in front of - no point giving Russia ideas, and various other garden tools.

But Russia had disappeared somewhere.

"I don't think Germany's in here. Damn and blast where is that bloody Russian?"

Romano who was so close to England, he was practically breathing down his neck, whispered, "I hope he's a long way away."

"He gave you sweets. I think he likes you," England said.

Romano shuddered.

"Are you bloody scared?"

"Of course not!" Romano leapt back, but his face was pale. The Italian ran fingers through his dark hair and straightened his jacket. "I'm not scared. Nothing scares me!" he said.

"Hmmm," England hummed. "I wonder where that damned Russian has gone?" he said and went back out.

A thick fog was rolling in now, there was a salty taste to it, reminding England that they were only a few miles from the sea.

Inside the castle/house…

"Commander Alfred F Jones, Eagle Alpha Group searching the premises. Let's do this, men!" the speaker was of course America.

His 'men' were Prussia (who slouched along behind him, very very annoyed he had been relegated to just one of Alfred's 'men'), Denmark (who was quite drunk) and Finland. Finland was the only one of the 'Alpha Group' who had any idea about what they were doing.

America leapt out from round a corner, gestured to his 'men' to follow and 'fan out', he told them.

Denmark's idea of 'fanning out' was stomping past America and up the stairs where he'd gesticulated to them to go and yell, "I don't see anything up here. No Ber, no Ludwig, no Switzy. Can I have a beer now?"

America shook his head. Really was he the only one Special Forces trained?

"You're 'special' alright," Finland told him when the American had voiced these opinions out loud.

"I think I need to go and make a Scooby sandwich," Denmark told America. The big Dane was charging back down the huge staircase, a rubber axe in one hand, a can of beer in the other.

America knew what that meant, it meant a good hour taken up with making a huge foot long sandwich filled with every filling Denmark could find in the refrigerator.

"Yeah okay… but Den…?"

"Ja?" Denmark skidded to a stop. He really hoped America wasn't going to ask him to stay and help instead of thinking of his stomach. He loved America like a bro, but not that much.

"Can you get me one?" America asked.

Denmark brightened, "Ja! If there's enough left!" he said and skidded off towards the kitchen.

"Pru, you do the first floor, me and Finlandia will do the second," America said.

Prussia grumbled. He hated being called 'Pru'.

"Come on, Tiny, let's get this mother," America said to Finland.

Finland laid a hand on his arm, "I have to say, Amerika. I am not Tiny…!" he protested.

America stared at him, "Dude, you're little, like how tall are you?"

"I'm only a couple of inches smaller than you! And my name is Tino and it doesn't mean small before you even say anything!"

America shut his mouth and leaned against the wall, staring at the smaller Nation.

"And I'm Finland, not Finlandia!"

"Like Nokia!"

"Yes… no… er…."

"Dude… you need to chillax!" America said. "Look! My lightsabre lights up!" he added, his face also lighting up with wonder. He was leaning back against the dark wood panelling when suddenly, a large section opened up, and America disappeared.

Finland stared at the space where America had been a moment before and then yelled out, "Hey! Everyone! Alfred just disappeared!"

There was just blank wall where America had been.

Where was everyone? No-one answered.

Finland was about to shout again when the wood panelling swung back again much like a revolving door and America re-appeared.

Tino squinted. He was sure he saw a shadowy arm reach out to grab America just before the panelling snapped back into place.

"Hey what's the problem little dude?" America said.

"You disappeared for a minute!"

"No, you disappeared!" America insisted.

"No, it was you, one minute you were there, the next you weren't."

"No I was here," America said.

"No you were in there!" Finland said, and tapped the wood panelling. Nothing happened.

"In there? Dude, that's wild!"

"Is there something wrong with you?" Finland asked, and not for the first time.

"My lightsabre went off!" America said, looking crestfallen like a small kid, fiddling with the toy.

Finland snatched it from him and switched it back on.

"Thanks little dude."

"You were in there. There must be a secret door. If you lean on it again I bet it will open up again." Finland said, slowly.

"It did go dark, dude. I wondered where you were."

Finland ignored him and started pressing on the various wood panels. "I thought I saw…" Finland shook the vision away. A shadowy menacing figure behind America reaching for him… No, surely not?

"Go get the others and tell them," Finland said. "We might have solved the mystery!"

"I'm on it, dude!" America yelled and took off and then skidded back. "Wait where? Who shall I get?"

"Go find Prussia! He's supposed to be upstairs, he might have found another secret door. There's lots of this wood panelling all over the castle."

"This isn't a castle, Arthur told me it's a house!" America confided to Finland. "It just looks like a castle!"

Finland shook his head. "Go find Prussia and I'll find the others!"

America bounded up the stairs, tapping on the wood panelling as he went. "Yo! Guess what, Pru?"

There was a muffled yell upstairs of "Don't call me, Pru!" then "kesese" and then… silence.

"Pru! Pru! Okay… okay… Gilbert my main dude…" America called as he arrived on the second floor.

Still silence.

America held up his light sabre (now lit) and advanced. He was distinctively unnerved, but pretended not to be. He'd heard Prussia call out but he had sounded faint as if he were miles away.

"Gilbert?" he called as he advanced down the passageway. He passed Switzerland's bedroom on his left and the hairs on the back of his neck went up and if America had any imagination at all (which he did, but it was rather stunted) he would have felt a pair of eyes following him down the corridor.

"Creepy," he muttered as he looked at a particularly ugly portrait of one of Scotland's many clan leaders. "Ugly old dude," he said.

He spun round to epically decapitate whoever was behind him. But there was no-one there.

"Hmm…"

The eyes on the portrait of 'Mad Murdoch MacAlpine' followed him…

He looked down and what he saw made him shout, "Woah! Dudes!"

It was a book, bound in leather with a rather (as America thought) girly red ribbon. On the front it said in proud letters "Secret Diary of Gilbert Beilschmidt, Aged 475 and ¾ years".

If America had had any doubt (and he had) that there was 'fool play' afoot, then he had none now. There was no doubt that 'old man England' was right, the Nations were being picked off one by one. After all, there was absolutely no way that Gilbert would ever leave his diary behind.

***To be Continued ***


	6. Diary of a Madman

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: Green Eyes, AngelicDemon678, Mitsukochan1, AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

**Chapter 6 - Diary of a Madman**

**Words in italics are excerpts from Prussia's diary…**

"This is just getting creepier and creepier," England said. Or should it 'more creepy'? England considered this grammatical conundrum as he listened to America's tale and then turned to Finland.

"It's true, Mr England. America leaned on this wall here…" Finland pointed to a space on the wall and then wished he'd somehow marked it with chalk or something, "… and he disappeared but then reappeared. He ran upstairs to find Prussia and he's just…"

"…Gone!" America yelled. "This is all that was left," he held up a book.

England stepped forward to take it off the American.

"Nah, man. This was Gil's secret diary. Secret!" America emphasised the last word.

"Give me that! There may be a clue," England said.

America held it up above his head. "A dude's secrets should stay that - secrets," he said in a wise voice. Or what he thought was a wise voice.

England reached up and snatched it from him. "First off, we just check that Prussia is really gone. And then we read this. There may be a clue as to where he is."

"He was right up here, wasn't he, Finland?"

Finland looked up, completely surprised America had got his name right. "Well I think so."

"Hmmm… Anybody could have snatched him…"

"I personally think it was Russia dude. He creeps me out," America whispered to England.

"Do I?" came a creepy voice behind them.

America almost jumped into England's arms.

"Jesus Christ on a treadmill!" England exclaimed.

Russia grinned at them.

"I think you should read little Gilbert's diary while we all sit and listen to you…" Russia said, smiling in what he thought was a benevolent way. It came across as a psychopathic grin. "It might explain to us why and how Gilbert died," Russia added mysteriously.

"How do you know it's Gilbert's diary and … wait what?" England stared. Was that a confession from the big Russian?

"He always kept a diary when he lived in my house," Russia said.

"How do you know?" Denmark asked, still stuffing his face with the largest sandwich this side of the Atlantic.

England noted that the Dane, despite supposedly being 'best buddies' with Prussia, did not appear to be at all fazed by the latter's disappearance.

"Because I read it," Russia replied and fixed Denmark with a bone-chilling smile. "I like reading."

Nobody said anything.

England broke the silence. "Right everybody to the kitchen. Stay there until America, France and I have searched the upstairs floor where Prussia was last seen and…"

But obviously nobody was listening as everybody just wandered off. Denmark strolled off leaving a trail of crumbs and beer. Russia stared at America and then said, for no reason at all, "I wish Lithuania was here," and then also shambled off. Austria, who had briefly emerged from the music room, shook his head and stepped back in, slamming the door. The two Italies followed Spain back to the kitchen.

France shook his head in commiseration, "Zay do not understand ze danger, mon ami."

"He still ain't there!" America yelled from the upper landing. "It's creepy, man. I swear he was up here and then he wasn't."

"Hmm… and someone as noisy as Prussia wouldn't just go down without yelling his head off unless…" England murmured. He tapped the diary, ruminating to himself.

* * *

"Right here goes, chaps," England said. He, France and America were sat in the same room they had interviewed/questioned Prussia, Austria and Lily just hours before.

"It's like story time again, when I was a kid," America said wistfully.

"Ah you were such a cute little Nation…" France murmured.

England opened the book, flipping through the pages quickly. He didn't want to read the preceding weeks' worth of 'Awesomeness'. The words that jumped out were 'Awesome', 'Beer', 'Bruder' and 'Gilbird'. Unfortunately, it was also written in German and England had zero knowledge of German apart from 'Auf wiedersehn' and 'Ja'. He sighed and handed the book to France (he didn't even consider America). "Read this," he said.

France took a big sip of wine. "You want me to translate for you, mon ami?"

"What the bloody hell do you think I gave it to you for? Just read from today. We might get some idea of what happened just before he got here and whether he saw something, that's if he did write anything down."

Prussia had written in his diary that day. In fact, Prussia had written a lot. France now began to translate:

_I was supposed to meet bruder at Berlin Airport but he texted me to say he was going to be late and to go on without him. That suited me fine as he's usually a grump on aeroplanes. He tells me to stop drinking and not tell everyone about my awesome time in the Luftwaffe. Yes, I was in the Luftwaffe, and everybody should know that. No, I didn't bomb the South of England, mainly because the team I was on forgot to load the bombs. No, it wasn't my fault…_

Here France shook his head at the incompetency - which, for even for him, was amazing. America laughed until he fell off his chair. England just harumphed and sipped his tea.

_Anyway, then I get a text from Den. At least I think it's Den…_

_"Yo dud cn u tek me to UK 4 mtg Norge sez he nt gong"._

_I think he meant 'dude' not dud… at least I hope so. The only word he spelled right was Norge. He's not allowed to travel on his own. I'm not sure if this is because he drinks a lot or just incompetence or the fact that he 'accidentally' invades another country and then Norge, Swe and Fin have to bail him out._

"How can you accidentally invade another country?" England was appalled - again. "Disgraceful!" But then England got thinking… Where was Norway? He couldn't remember if he'd been invited or not. Also did Norway have any ongoing issues with Switzerland, Germany, Sweden or Prussia? He didn't think so. Certainly not with Sweden. Switzerland quite possibly, after all, the Swissman had threatened all of them at some time. Prussia was annoying, but he didn't think Norway would actually take the time to sneak into the UK and elaborately plan to kidnap and possibly murder them all.

"Continue…" he told France, waving a hand. "But speed it up and get to the part where they get to England."

_So I texted back "Sure dude, I'll come get you in my most awesome van…"_

"No! We don't want to hear all this rubbish…" England yelled. America tried to calm him down and handed him a custard cream.

France continued reading, frowning sometimes as he translated from German to French and then English.

_When I arrived at Den's place in Copenhagen in my most awesome van…_

"Wait… what van?" England asked.

"Pru has an ice cream van, man," America answered.

England shook his head. He could not fathom Prussia selling ice cream.

_..Den had only packed one suitcase and that was full of beer. At least he was ready. He usually isn't. He tried to bring his axe, but I told him that the wimpy English custom guards wouldn't like that. At least none of his daughters were there. They scare the fuck out of me. So we jumped in the van and drove to Rotterdam. Thought about calling in to see Netherlands, but he doesn't like me. Plus his hair is way cooler than Den's so we didn't. We only just caught the ferry to England. Den was way too excitable and I can see now why Norge sometimes gives him tranqs. He talks non-stop. But that triple espresso didn't help. I tried texting Ludwig but he wasn't answering._

"It is very suspect that Germany arrived so late… He's usually very punctual…" England interjected.

"Do you suspect him, mon cher?" France asked, twirling his glass of wine.

"Man! Do you think Germany kidnapped himself?" America all but yelled.

England just stared at the American until Alfred realised what he'd just said and clammed up.

_We got on the ferry, but standing at the helm of the P&amp;O ferry yelling 'We will make this our land!' did not go down well with the other passengers. But we're used to people giving us wide berths._

"Why didn't they just fly from Copenhagen to London?" England interrupted.

"Den's been banned from a lot of airlines." America said and then added, "Artie, what's a mile-high club?"

"Never you mind," England answered and waved at France to continue.

France smiled, "Ah oui, ze mile high club…" he began.

"No! Carry on with the diary!"

France pursed his lips, leaned back in his chair and carried on:

_We got thrown out of the gift shop when Den, who's a big idiot, charged in asking why they didn't sell axes. Rubber or real. Or Viking helmets. Then Den said we'd go to Jorvik to get one…_

England jumped to his feet, "It's bloody York, not Jorvik! Bloody Vikings! I was just a bloody kid then."

America wordlessly handed England another custard cream.

_The woman behind the counter thought he meant the Viking Museum in York which I know is his favourite place in Britain but Den being Den started going on about Viking invasions and that's when we got chucked out of the gift shop._

"Does it actually say anything about meeting anyone else on that ferry?" England asked, his left eyebrow twitching.

France frowned and quickly flicked through the diary. "Beer. Den chatting up a lady… Lady slapped him… Gilbert laughed… Den hit him, Gilbert hits him back over the head with a beer bottle… Den has a hard head though and…" France shook his head as if they were amateurs and hooligans. Which they were.

"_Den texted Norge, stole a traffic one, put it on his head, they bought fish and chips in Dover_…" France read in a bored tone.

"Wait what?" England said, suddenly sitting up.

"They had fish and chips with ketchup," France pulled a face at this lower form of cuisine. "Apparently, a herring gull stole Gilbert's fish. But he didn't cry. That is what he wrote."

"Hell, I would have!" Alfred said.

"No, I mean what was said earlier."

"Ah yes… a traffic cone stolen by Denmark. I presume he places it on ze head to annoy us, non?"

"No, you foolish Frenchman!"

"Yes he does, Artie! But he dropped it in the sea," America butted in, looking sad.

"I don't mean the traffic cone I mean the bit where Denmark texted Norge whoever that bloody is," England said.

"Norway!" America answered for him.

"Go and make another pot of tea," England told 'the boy'.

America slouched out with a sigh.

"But don't go far and try not to get kidnapped…"

England thought a bit more and then shouted again after America, "And don't go near Russia …"

France shrugged, "He will be fine. You worry… Although I do remember when he was just a little Nation…" He stopped when he saw England's exasperated face. "I zink you need to calm down, Arthur or your blood pressure will be going up again."

"Just read what the text to Norway said…" England told him.

_Yo Norge in Lowestoft wiv Pru, no money, cn u send us sum?_

"Hmmm… what did Norway answer?" England asked.

"Norway did not answer, mon cher," France replied, flicking through the diary.

"No answer? Are you sure?"

"Oui. Zere is none reported in here and I zink zat Gilbert would have mentioned zis. He mentions everyzing else."

"Hmm that is interesting…"

"Is it, mon cher?"

England ignored the 'mon cher' again. Usually, it sent him into of paroxysms of rage. "Perhaps Norway is here? Kidnapping Nations?"

France threw the diary down and stood up dramatically, "Mon cher! Do you know what you are saying?"

"Oui… I mean er yes."

"I do not zink Norvège would do such a zing!"

"Hmmm, that's your opinion. I suspect everyone!"

"Even the Nations who are not here?"

"Especially them!"

"But you said earlier that Monsieur Russie was a suspect."

"Yes, well…"

"And now you zink it is Norvège doing the kidnapping?"

America burst in with the pot of tea balanced in one hand and a pile of sandwiches in the other.

"Norwegia is doing the kidnapping?" he all but yelled. (It was impressive that he knew who 'Norvège' was.)

"Keep your voice down! No, we're not sure. What the hell? There's no such country as Norwegia! It's time you got yourself a proper atlas."

"It sure is!" America said, pouring England a cup of tea from the freshly-made pot.

"Angleterre zinks zat because Norway is not here, that he may be responsible," France explained slowly.

"Nah, man. He's only a little dude."

"What does that have to do with it?" England was exasperated as he took a sip of tea.

"Well Germany ain't no pushover, neither is big Swedenland or Switzy dude." America's logic was perfect.

England gulped the tea with a grimace. "This tea is a bit weak, how many teabags did you use?"

America rolled his eyes, "Teabags schmeebags, dude."

"He may have a point," France said.

"What? About the teabags?" England asked.

"Non, I mean about Allemagne not being a pushover. He is not a pushover. Neither are ze others."

"That's an interesting theory, my little French loon," England muttered. "Continue with Prussia's diary."

So, France continued…

_We had no money. Den isn't allowed money and when I tried to sell my plane tickets, nobody wanted them. Bizarre… Although Den did point out that selling return tickets to Berlin was silly when we were in Lowestoft…_

"I think this is all very suspicious. They went a funny way round to get into old Blighty," England interrupted - again.

"Oui, I zink so too, old friend."

"I think it makes perfect sense," America said - having spent time with both Prussia and Denmark and knowing their roundabout way of travelling.

"What on earth are you on about?"

"When there was that conference thingy at Yao's house the other month, they went via Egypt and then turned right." America said this as if they'd turn right at an intersection.

"Why?"

"Dunno. Egypt dude is a badass, man. You can't go there without seeing his sphynx. Crazy."

"No, I mean why go that way?"

"Pru doesn't like going through Russia, man."

"But he would have been flying."

"Dunno, Pru won't fly over Russia. They went through Delhi and met India. He's another badass. Den ate the hottest curry that ever existed and Pru said it wasn't pretty. He was still feeling the effects a week later."

England went all glassy-eyed. "Ah… India…" he said wistfully.

"He doesn't like you," France muttered.

England suddenly snapped out of his reverie. "Continue… I want to know where they got that awful contraption of a car from. And whether anyone else texted them."

_After we had our icecreams, we didn't have enough money for 99s with flakes, so we had to have cones, we were completely broke. Den offered to sell his body for money, but I didn't think we would get very much that way and it would take too long._

"Non! He would not. Moi, however…" France exclaimed, pausing in his reading.

"Nasty…" America muttered.

France ignored him and carried on:

_Then we saw this most awesome car._

"That bloody heap outside?" England exclaimed.

"Oui, ze bloody 'eap outside…"

_It said Lowestoft Driving School on it and there was this dude sat in it looking totally unawesome and some crazy older dude who was talking to him about the Highway Code and some stuff. Den asked them if they would give us a lift to Scotland and the older dude said that the younger dude was having his driving test. But Den said that was silly and when he learned to drive in 1131 you had to give Vikings lifts wherever they wanted to go. Anyway I argue with that. There's no way someone would make a law like that. Oh yeah, and there were no cars in 1131. But Den was insistent, all the time he was leaning against this car's bonnet. The older dude got all crazy and started yelling at us and telling us he was going to call the police. He even told the younger dude to ring someone from his mobile. But the younger dude actually got out of the car and started to film us on his phone and said it was going on Youboob or something. So we posed for him and did some proper Viking fighting. Then we stole their car and drove off. What a pair of idiots. English people are such nobs._

"That's appalling!"

"I know right! It's Youtube, not Youboob. I think Gilbert isn't with the times," America yelled proudly.

"No, you fool… oh never mind…"

"I zink perhaps he meant to say Youboob. Gilbert can be very naughty sometimes, honhonhon." France said.

"Oh dear."

America blushed pink.

"So is there absolutely anything of any use at all in that damned diary?" England asked desperately.

France flicked through it, "Zere is a fetching drawing of Russia with an axe in his head." Here France held it up for England to see.

England looked around, "Put that down, if he sees that, we're all dead."

"And a picture of Roderich looking very unhappy playing Mozart on somezing that looks like a large condom…" Here France held up another badly drawn picture - this time of Austria with a downturned smiley face producing very wobbly musical notes out of what looked to be a cucumber.

"I think that's supposed to be a violin…Condom? Why on earth did you think that?" England asked, squinting at the picture.

France shrugged. He held up another drawing. "Monsieur Gilbert cannot draw very well. I believe zis is you and I, Arthur, in ze bath…"

"You bloody drew that, you damned pervert!" England yelled and launched himself at France.

"Well, ladies. I'll leave you to your knitting. I'm going to catch me a ghost," America said and got to his feet. He stepped over the two fighting Nations and headed to the kitchen where he assumed the remaining Nations were.

* * *

In the kitchen..

"Two down, four to go," Alfred proclaimed, completely miscalculating.

"You mean four down," Russia said, looking him up and down.

"That as well."

"I'll always miss Gil. He was too good for this world," Denmark said, grieving over a large quadruple-decker meat sandwich.

Russia growled at him at the mention of 'Gil'.

America looked around the kitchen. It seemed bereft of Nations. Certainly: Nations that he thought would help him catch a ghost. He didn't count Russia - Russia wouldn't be one of his 'men'. He also discounted Scotland and his dog 'Bertie'. Scotland was still unconscious and muttering about independence. Bertie was conscious but America was still doubtful about whether the dog wasn't really a demon. Denmark would normally be counted on to help him catch a ghost, but the big Dane looked as if he were in mourning, or at least very very hungry. There was no-one else around.

"Where is everyone? Where's Finland, Feliciano, Romano, Lily and Tony?" America asked. He didn't bother to ask where Austria was. He could hear the music floating through.

Russia shrugged. "Perhaps they are dead as well?" He was drinking vodka and shaking his mobile phone with a confused look on his face.

"I thought Spain was cooking rice or something?" America asked, looking around the kitchen, particularly at the large pot bubbling away.

"Paella," Denmark answered with his mouth full.

"So he left this cooking with nobody to watch over it?" America quizzed, frowning.

"Nyet, I was not told to look after it, were you, Denmark?" Russia answered, waving his phone at America.

"Nope."

"So you cannot blame anyone for this, America," Russia told him.

"No, I mean…" America considered this. Spending time with England had made him suspicious and a bit jumpy. "Where's Tony now?"

"I do not know. Is he in the pantry, looking for more tomatoes?" Russia suggested.

America opened the pantry door and looked in quickly. He remembered he wasn't supposed to tell the others that there was a secret door at the back and he shivered. He must remember to tell England that they should investigate it properly. There was no sign of the Spaniard. He turned and shook his head at Russia.

"We will sort this out, eh America? You and I. We are the strongest of the Nations. The Superpowers… and so it is up to us to protect the other little Nations and find the bodies… I mean the missing… " Russia said, clamping a very large hand on America's shoulder.

America shuddered and stepped away from him. "You're not a superpower any more," he said and then instantly regretted his words. Dude England was forever telling him to think before speaking. He saw the creepy purple aura starting to mist around the Russian and added, "But yeah, you're right my main dude. Let's do this!"

Russia nodded happily and the aura dissipated as fast as it appeared. He opened the kitchen door which led to the back garden and then stopped abruptly, looking down at something at his feet. "Oh… I think I'm quite good at this!" he called to America.

America joined him and looked down at the ground.

On the doorstep, flat on his back, blood pooling around his head, was Spain…

**To be continued **

**Author's Notes:**

**Please note that this story is not a sequel to the other stories, it's a standalone story. But the characters are pretty much the same (as they always are in my stories).**


	7. Catatonic

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: Silent Searcher, Green Eye, AngelicDemon678, Mitsukochan1, AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

**Chapter 7 - Catatonic**

"He's catatonic."

"How can you tell?"

"He looks no different than normal."

The Nations assembled around Spain who was sat at the kitchen table, thankfully alive, with a comically massive white bandage on his head and very dazed, fixed expression on his face.

America had shouted to everyone (almost deafening Russia who was stood next to him), "Come and look! Tony's been killed!" He had then bent down and looked at his friend. He was quite upset. He liked Spain - saw him as a 'cool dude' and actually didn't want to believe that the Nations could die.

He had found that Spain was still breathing, and heaved a sigh of relief.

"I felt his tubular vein!" he told England, who burst into the kitchen, closely followed by France. England had a cut lip and France's tri-coloured hair ribbon was in disarray.

"He's still alive!" America had then yelled happily.

England hurried past Russia's bulk and bent down next to Spain.

"All that blood loss could be fatal though…" Russia had said in a weird chirpy voice. He sounded positively cheery.

"It's tomato juice!" England had announced, checking the red pool around Spain's head. "He dropped a bowl of tomatoes," he'd added, pointing to the smashed bowl. But not before France had promptly fainted.

"So… someone tried to kidnap my dude Spain," America said as they stood around the aforementioned Nation, who had still not spoken a word or answered their questions.

England shook his head, "I think not, my boy…" (America winced at this, he hated being called 'boy') "… If they were going to kidnap Spain, I think he would be gone. Unless of course they couldn't carry him…"

Russia picked Spain up as if he were a ragdoll and then set him back down, "Then they are very weak," he said. "I can pick him up easily."

"Yes, that is interesting," England said.

"It is?" Russia looked pleased.

"More than you know," England said. "France, make a note," he told Francis. But the said French Nation was lying prone on the floor with Lily sat at his side (she was now the undisputed nurse) giving him smelling salts.

"Who knocked you out, Spain?" England asked, slowly and carefully. For the sixth time.

Spain just stared, glassy-eyed, his mouth slightly open. There was a large bump on the back of his head but other than that there did not seem to be any other injury.

"He's a vegetable!" Denmark said. His own mouth was hanging slightly open and he also looked dazed.

Feliciano burst into renewed sobs and hugged the Spaniard.

Romano shook his head, "Too much sangria," he said.

"I think not, Romano," England told him.

Russia waved his pipe in Spain's face. There was no reaction.

Austria, who was leaning against the doorway, was less than sympathetic, "Oh he's probably just messing about. Haha very funny. My music is not boring. He was like this when we were married."

"Haha! You married a dude!" Denmark laughed.

"So did you!" Austria responded.

"Yes, so what? It's not gay if you're a Viking," Denmark replied, chugging down another beer.

"You two just shut up. I need to think," England told them.

"Humph! Well!" Austria turned to stalk off to the music room.

"Just a moment. Not so fast!" England jumped up and grabbed Austria's sleeve.

"Mind my jacket! It's priceless!"

"You mean it's bloody old!" Denmark laughed.

"Emperor Francis the First gave this to me in 1752!" Austria said. "It's made from the best velvet and silk!"

"It's almost as old as me!" America was amazed.

"I have doorknobs older than you," England told the young American.

"Right, well if you don't need me…" Austria tried, again, to leave.

"Just hold on a minute there, Count Von Moneybags… Why aren't you worried about being kidnapped? You don't seem too scared?" England asked, stepping up to the Austrian so he was nose to nose with him.

Austria stepped back and adjusted his spectacles. "I have already answered your silly questions. I do not think I am in danger. I do not go around waving rifles at people like Vash does or pranking people like Gilbert or just being generally spendthrift like Germany."

Feliciano looked shocked. "Luddy doesn't spend lots of thrifts!"

"I mean he thinks nothing of throwing away a perfectly good pair of underpants that has just one hole in them!" Austria explained.

"And you think that's a good enough reason to get bashed on the head, do you?" England asked suspiciously.

Austria stuttered and stammered, "I… I.. I didn't say that!"

"Well I think it is!" Russia said.

"What about Berwald? He doesn't prank people, or shove rifles into people's faces," Finland butted in. "Why was he kidnapped?"

"Good question," England said.

France was just coming to consciousness on the floor and he groaned suggestively, "Oh mon dieu!"

"Oh here comes Monsieur Pervert…" England muttered.

"Well back to your question, I think it's possibly because Sweden looks like somebody else here…" Austria winked surreptitiously at England and nodded at Russia.

"I have no idea what you mean," England said huffily.

Finland shook his head. "Berwald just looks like Ber…"

"You mean from the back Sweden looks like Russia!" Denmark yelled.

Austria raised an eyebrow.

"He does not look anything like me!" Russia said, utterly appalled.

Finland was equally appalled, "They're the same height. But that's about it!"

"From the back they look the same!" England said.

Austria hurried out.

Russia spun round in circles as if he were trying to see what he looked like from the back. He failed.

"It's like a dog chasing his own tail," Finland remarked. Quietly.

"Do any of you who were in this kitchen, remember what happened to Spain? Anything? Am I talking to myself?" England asked.

"You sure are!" America said.

France had now got to his feet, but still looked very pale. "Eet eez awful!" he said shakily.

"It wasn't even blood, you French poof," England said.

"Spain was stirring his pot and then said he was going outside to smoke," Denmark said, "And the next minute… poof!" Denmark banged his hands together.

"Poof? You make it sound like he exploded?" England asked and turned to France, "Are you making notes?"

"Non. I am too ill!" Francis replied, a hand dramatically to his forehead.

"Nah… He just kinda disappeared," Denmark attempted to explain.

"You mean he disappeared from view?"

"Well I looked out the window and one minute he was there and the next he wasn't…"

"That is because he fell down," Russia said with certainty.

"Dude… that must be it," Denmark said, looking up at the Russian.

"Were you here as well?" England asked.

"Yep! I just told you!" Denmark replied.

"Not you, Den! Mr England means Mr Russia. You already said you were here!" Finland said, swiping Denmark around the head as if he were a naughty schoolboy.

"Me?" Russia asked.

"Yes. You. Where were you?" England asked.

"I don't want to tell you…" Russia said. He was still trying to twist his head to see what he looked like from behind.

"And why not?" England asked.

"Because he is our kidnapper! He kidnapped Switzy dude, then Berwald because he looks like him, then Germania cos Germania wears holey underwear and then Gil because Gil prank-calls him!" America shouted, utterly pleased with himself.

Russia threw a kitchen chair aside and launched himself at America, who backflipped out of harm's way.

"Stop this! Russia just tell me where you were!" England said, trying to distract the big Russian.

"I don't kidnap people! I just kill them!" Russia told them and then added hurriedly, "Well not them."

England felt a cold shiver running down his back. "Okay… I think…"

"How do we know they were kidnapped?" Finland asked. He was unscrewing a bottle of vodka and handing it to Russia. He'd spent enough time under Russia's rule to know that was the way you placated an angry Russian.

"What do you mean?" England asked.

"Well… shouldn't we get a ransom note if they were kidnapped?" Finland said.

Russia took it the vodka bottle from him and ruffled the small Finnish Nation's hair. He took a large gulp and sat down. Bending his pipe into a square shape, he said menacingly, "It's not over yet, young Amerika…"

America shrugged. He was wearing his Superman boxer shorts and a clean white vest, he was invulnerable.

"A ransom note… you know what? You are right, Finland," England said. "France, make a note."

Francis took a big gulp of wine and wrote something in his notebook.

Lily, who was sat next to him, blushed bright pink, stood up and hurried out.

America suddenly smacked his forehead and grabbed hold of England and pulled him out of the room, "Dude… I remembered something…"

"Alfred… I'm busy trying to solve a crime!"

"Yes but…"

"Listen, it can wait!"

"But dude… that cellar down in the pantry. We were going to check it out…"

"Ah yes, you are right!"

"I am?"

"Yes, Alfred. But we need a torch and possibly some weapons…"

But America was already halfway up the stairs. "Switzy dude left his rifle and I think I have a torch in my suitcase!" he yelled.

"Alfred!" England ran after him. "Don't go off on your own!" He panted as he caught up with him.

"Why not? I'm old enough now!"

"No, I mean if Nations are being kidnapped or worse…"

"You mean I could be kidnapped?" America looked wide-eyed.

"I think whoever it is, is taking the stronger nations…"

America considered this as he picked up Switzerland's rifle. He snapped it open, checked for bullets and snapped it shut again. "I ain't going down without one helluva fight!" he said, heroically. He slung the rifle over his shoulder. But unfortunately, he'd forgotten to put the safety on as the rifle went off and a bullet hit the ceiling.

"Bloody idiot! Put that thing down!" England yelled.

Russia and Denmark were standing at the bottom of the stairs, "Did someone get shot? What's happening?" they both shouted.

"Is that bruder's rifle? He's not going to be very happy…" Lily called up.

England shook his head, "See!" and then called down, "It's alright!"

America put the safety catch on, put a cigarette in his mouth (unlit) and put the rifle back over his shoulder. "I got this covered!" he said and headed to his own room.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to put my light sabre back. Shit is going down!" America said. It was unclear whether he meant that it was becoming too serious for a light sabre or whether he just no longer needed his light sabre. He also didn't explain what 'shit' was 'going down' or where.

England sighed. "You look utterly ridiculous. You're not in a bloody movie. You're Bill Willis in Try Hard or whatever it is."

America ignored him and rummaged through his Disney suitcase. He carefully put his light sabre back amongst Marvel boxer shorts and a Stars and Stripes flag.

"We could have used the light sabre as a torch," England said, watching him.

A battered parchment tied with ribbon was flung out. England scooped it up out of interest. "What's this?"

"Dunno. It was in my sock drawer and I threw it in," Alfred replied, finally holding up a Winnie the Pooh torch.

England was dumbfounded. Not at the torch. He'd seen that before. At conference hotels, America often made a 'duvet tent' and read his comics by torchlight. It was the parchment that made England's eyes widen. "How long have you had this?"

"I bought it at New York's Disney store a few years ago!"

England stared at him, "No, you big idiot! I mean this!" he waved the parchment around.

"Oh that! I dunno." America scratched his blond head.

"Is it what I think it is?"

"What do you think it is?"

"It's… it's… the Declaration of Independence! Oh my God! This is the original?"

"What? Oh yeah… Jefferson drafted it and wanted me to have a look…"

"… And?"

"And what?"

"Oh yeah… I thought it looked okay."

"Okay? You thought it looked 'okay'?" England was, for once, speechless.

"I guess I forgot it was there. I've wondered where it was. I was supposed to give it him back."

"This is priceless… it could be worth millions…"

"Nah, doubt it. It's just a scrap of paper. I thought it was a shopping list."

England had an urge to smack him over the head.

"Right come on, Britain, let's do this!"

"Wait!" England gave America the parchment back and watched with some disapproval as America threw it into his suitcase. "That piece of paper you just threw in there is utterly priceless! It should be in a museum," he told America.

America shrugged. "Boring."

"Anyway, just wait up. I have a cunning plan… I just need to have a chat with Tinkerbell…"

"Nobody believes your stuff about fairies and pirates, Artie."

"I don't care."

"They all think you're a bit mad."

"I'm not interested…"

"I told them that you're often just drunk."

"I don't get drunk!"

"Actually, Artie. You kinda do. You were so drunk at Christmas you fell in the fish pond and thought you were in the bath. My fish never survived all those bath bombs. And the Prez said that you weren't allowed to spend Christmas with me again."

"You don't have to live in the White House basement, Alfred. I've told you. You have a perfectly nice residence in New York."

"The Big Apple's okay, but I like my Capital, and the Prez is cool."

This conversation was taking place as they walked back down the stairs.

"Your Prez is…" But England didn't get to finish his opinion of the US President. "Ah Tinkerbell, I need your help!" he said suddenly.

America shook his head, twirling a finger at his head, indicating that the British Nation was unhinged and headed back to the kitchen. He was hungry and needed a hamburger before he was going to 'kick ass'.

* * *

England hurried down the stairs and huddled into a corner next to an umbrella stand, jumping a little when the handle of an umbrella poked him in the bottom. (He almost yelled out 'France, you pervert!')

He looked around to make sure nobody was around and then whispered, "Tinkerbell, I need you to be my spy…Not you, Captain Hook, you're too loud and if I'm not mistaken, you're also very very drunk. Not you either Flying Mint Bunny. I think this mission is too rough for you. I think it would be too upsetting." Then England seemed to argue with fresh air in front of him, "Yes but Tinks has had Special Ops training. She knows what she's doing and she's done this stuff before in the War."

In the kitchen, America fried a hamburger, flipping it expertly and adding onions, humming happily to himself.

Spain was still in a vegetative state. Romano seemed weirdly cheerful about this and kept poking him experimentally.

Hamish snored fitfully, the dog on his lap glared at them.

England re-entered the kitchen, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

Denmark grinned at him.

Russia growled.

England stepped up to America, "Right Alfred. We'll go in a minute and check on the you-know-what."

"What?"

"That what we were talking about," England said and winked.

"Is there something wrong with your eye?" America asked, totally oblivious.

"The secret door…"

"Oh yeah! That secret door in the pantry!" America half yelled.

Denmark and Russia looked up.

France sighed dramatically.

"Secret door?"

"Yes there's one in the pantry, it goes down to some cellar or something," America said and flipped his burger onto a bun.

England sighed. Bloody boy - he couldn't keep anything quiet if his life depended on it.

"We should explore it and see if we can find the bodies," Russia said, standing up.

"You never told me where you were when Spain was hit over the head," England said to Russia, keeping his voice quiet and calm.

"Nyet, I didn't." Russia said, looking back at England as if that was the end of the matter.

"I'll find out, one way or another," England muttered to himself. This was highly suspicious, he thought.

"Wut?" Russia asked.

"Oh nothing…" England said, smiling at the Russian. He rubbed his hands. Oh yes, he would find out eventually, he thought. He could see his little 'spy' now, invisible to all, perched on Russia's shoulder.

"Right, let's do this. Alfred - get that burger eaten. Russia - I suppose you can come as well. Finland - are you going to help? Denmark?" England began.

Nobody seemed to be listening. Apart from Russia who stood in front of him, twirling a lead pipe and smiling at him.

Alfred was munching his burger and moaning that there were no 'fries'.

France was worse than useless and seemed to think that drinking half a bottle of Beaujolais would make the whole thing okay.

"If I drink all zis wine, everyzing will be fine, non?"

"Non, it will not," England said. "Honestly, anyone?" England sounded desperate, even to his own ears. He really didn't want to go down those cellar steps alone with Russia. "For glory and freedom?" he ventured, appealing to America. "In the name of Odin and those other Viking gods… like erm Ikea…" he said, trying to appeal to Finland and Denmark.

Denmark stood up, "I'm with you, little dude. I don't have my axe but I got my Viking courage and I want to find my mate Gilbert."

"Hold on, dude! Just gotta finish my burger and then I'm on my way with Switzy's rifles."

Finland also stood up, "I'm with you, Mr England. This has to stop."

"I think I'll stay here with Antonio…" Romano said nodding at Spain. He actually looked a little sad and it was unusual to hear him call Spain by his human name.

"I'll stay here with my fratello and Big Brother Spain… we should look after each other. Just in case…" Italy said, already cutting up a white tablecloth and tying it to a stick…

"Right… for King and Country and all that…" England declared and opened the pantry door.

He found himself quickly scrunched up against a wall, as Russia, Denmark and America squashed in with him. The latter alarmingly, was holding two rifles. Finland, probably the only sane person left in the house (apart from himself and Austria - who was useless and playing the bloody piano now and Lily of course) stood outside the door.

"Erm… Mr England? I think this is a bad idea…" Finland ventured.

"Yer think?" England spluttered, trying to breathe.

"Get your fat butt out of my way," Denmark said.

"I am not fat, I am big-boned," Russia told Denmark, his purple aura pulsing around him.

"I was talking to Alfie," Denmark said hurriedly as Russia glared at him, raising his pipe above his head.

England was elbowed in the face by Russia.

"Men! Can we just…" England began.

"Hey! I call them 'men'!" America mumbled.

"Are you still bloody eating?" England said, appalled. Or to be correct, muffled as Russia leaned in way too close to him.

"Yep, I think I lost some of my burger though…" America said sadly, looking down at the floor.

Denmark tried to step back away from Russia and there was a squelch, "Ah man! I stood on your burger!" he said.

America's usually happy grin turned to a frown, "Oh no!"

"Idiot! Alfred, never mind that, do you have that torch?" England asked, exasperated.

"Yes…" America nodded.

"Well?"

"Oh yeah…" America stepped back out into the kitchen, picked up the Winnie the Pooh torch and went back inside. "Do we need my torch? I mean Russkie dude is glowing… wow… that's weird. Is it a Russian thing?"

"Nyet. It is a demon thing," Russia told him, glowering.

America looked up at the big Russian and then handed him a cookie.

"Can we just get on, please?" England said, as if they were late for a bus.

"I'm ready, let's do this!" Denmark said, rolling his shoulders as if going into a fight.

England nodded, "America, switch on the torch!"

"Okay dokay," America squeezed past Russia.

The cellar door creaked open with a horrid screech.

"Sounds like your back in a morning, Britain," America said.

England ignored him. The cellar steps seemed to stretch down endlessly into blackness. Black like a….

"…Grave…" Russia whispered behind him.

England almost leapt out of his skin.

"Ah well, let's go!" Russia took the torch out of America's hand, began humming as he ate the cookie America had given him and descended the steps as if he were off for a stroll.

"Hey! He took my torch!" America yelled and took off after him.

"I don't need a torch," Russia said petulantly as he reached the bottom of the steps. He gave the torch back to America. "I like the bear on it though. I saw a bear earlier today…" he continued telling them as England and Denmark joined him at the bottom of the steps.

England ignored him. Russia's flights of fancy when drunk were legendary. Ivan the Terrible at world conferences? Really? Arthur was more concerned at the state of the cellar steps. He and Denmark had clung to the bannister as they'd descended and several time they'd slipped.

"Hey Hamish! You need to sort out these steps, someone could get hurt!" he called up. "Very slippery. Must be damp…" he said to himself.

Finland appeared at the top of the steps though and frowned at them. "Have you found anything yet?"

"Only more stupid," England muttered. He shone the torch up the steps at Finland and realised with horror just why the cellar steps were so 'slippery'. He gasped. The steps were streaked red. He hurriedly swung the torch back and it lit up Russia under his chin making the Russian look more demonic than usual.

Russia grinned at him.

America and Denmark were utterly oblivious and seemed to be comparing biceps.

"I work out! I work out more than you!"

"Changing channels on the remote is not working out, Den!"

"I go to the gym! What's that kid Sealand been saying?"

"You've let yourself go, man!"

England shook his head. Bloody morons. He ventured down a cold dark, stone-walled corridor and felt Russia following him very close behind. That was okay though wasn't it? Tinkerbell was close and even if he didn't have his wand, Tinkerbell had hers. He stopped abruptly and Russia ran into his back almost shoving him over.

England bent down, something had caught his eye…

"Hey that's a…" he began to say. He felt a cold hand grab his arm, the torch went out and there was pitch blackness.

Russia said to him, triumphantly, "I've got you!"

And then the screaming started…

**To Be Continued ***


	8. Electric Shocks and Drunken Fairies

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: Silent Searcher, YugiohRulez, Green Eye, AngelicDemon678, Mitsukochan1, AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

**The Vanishing chapter 8 - Ghost Electric Shocks and Drunken Fairies**

"In the name of Nelson!" England cried out.

He couldn't see a thing. The bloody torch wouldn't work and worse still he had been picked up by Russia and being carried to his doom.

"Help!" he yelled.

"No-one can hear you, England," Russia said, creepily.

"Oh no!" England said and thought 'I'm going to die like the rest'.

Russia put him down abruptly. "What's wrong, England? No-one can hear you because they are all shouting and screaming and they all ran up the stairs!" They were now standing at the top of the cellar steps.

"What?"

"I saved your life!" Russia said.

"What?" England said again, backing away towards the kitchen - and safety.

"Somebody was trying to grab you and I grabbed you back!"

England frowned. Is that what happened?

He stepped into the kitchen and wished he hadn't.

Pure pandemonium hit him like a soggy sponge.

It was dark in the kitchen and Arthur assumed there was some kind of power cut. But that was not all, America and Denmark were arguing about who had run up the steps first and who was a 'scaredy-cat'. But that was not even the worst of it. Spain had come out of his vegetative state and was flamenco-dancing around the kitchen with Romano. It was apparent that it was Romano who was screaming.

England noted that the Italian screamed like a girl.

"Is this absolutely necessary?" he cried.

"I saved England!" Russia declared proudly.

This made America pause in his arguing with Denmark. "I'm supposed to be the hero!"

"Well where were you?" England asked, his hands on hips.

"He came up here to rescue us!" Feliciano said, and flung his arms around America, who looked very uncomfortable.

"From who?"

"Erm…"

"You mean he rescued you from a dancing Spaniard? This is preposterous," England said.

Russia stood next to him, nodding fervently.

"And what's happened to the lights?"

"Zay are out!" France told him.

"I can bloody see that!"

"Well, why ask?" Denmark said.

"Is there a powercut?" England asked.

Denmark smacked his head and said, probably the one and only insightful and sane thing he was to utter at all that weekend, "I bet the fuses blew!"

"Will somebody, please just stop this bloody Spaniard dancing around this bloody kitchen and stop Romano from bloody screaming his bloody head off?" England yelled.

Romano wasn't exactly screaming, he was yelling but it came out as a scream. "Someone stop him!" he yelled desperately as he was flung around the kitchen by Spain. Spain was snapping his fingers, throwing his head back and singing some god-awful (to England's ears) Spanish tune and stamping his feet. Most of the foot-stamping also happened to land on Romano's feet.

Everyone looked frozen. England was amazed that a crisis could have arisen from a dancing Spaniard. A dancing Spaniard who still had a huge bandage on his head.

Finally, Romano slapped him - Spain, that is, not England.

Antonio stopped dancing abruptly. "Why did you do that little Romano? Where's Belgium? And Netherlands? Where am I?" Spain said. He looked around dazedly and then his gaze fixed back on Romano. "You're all grown up!" he looked at Feliciano, "You've come to live with me! Yay!" he then danced around the kitchen in a kind of happy dance.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with him?" England said.

"Oh no… Boss Spain…" Romano muttered and sat down with his head in his hands.

"Yay! I love Boss Spain!" Feliciano said.

America shook his head, "Europeans, man…"

"Where is the fuse box, Hamish?" England was attempting to get some sense out of his still unconscious brother. Really, how long had his brother been like this? Could he possibly be the perpetrator? Could he be faking?

England looked down at his brother. His head was slumped on the table, his mouth was slack and out of it came horrid wheezing snoring noises. He was wearing his all-tartan ensemble - tartan sweater, tartan kilt and tartan tam-o-shanter, his red hair sticking out like a clown's wig.

"Mmmmf I told ye I wouldna do it… the little sod… Peter, I said, yer a little sod… independence…" Scotland burbled.

"Talking utter garbage as usual," England concluded. He stepped away, before 'Wee Bertie', the angriest dog in Christendom, could bite him.

In the hallway, Austria and Spain were arguing. An argument that seemed to have transcended 400 years.

"They are mine now! Both of them!" Spain was telling Austria.

"You're deluded!" Austria countered.

"Am I really? And Belgium as well! She lives with me! You're not so hot now, are you Austria? I didn't have to swap Romano!"

Romano folded his arms and glowered at Spain behind his back.

"What on earth are you on about? Are you concussed? Brain damaged?" Austria yelled back. "Where is Belgium then?"

"Well… I don't know that… she will live with me when I can find her!"

"Moron!" Austria declared the argument over and slammed the door shut. A violin could be heard under the cracks in the door.

"Round one to me! I'm finally a Boss! I am the great Spanish Empire again!" Spain declared.

The great Spanish Empire was shoved out of the way by America, who had never been an Empire and was proud of it.

"Coming through!" America yelled. He had no time for any of this 'going over the past' or 'resolving difficulties by talking'. He clasped his guns in the gloom. Darkness was falling fast over the house.

The lights were indeed out, but everything else seemed to be working - as the Italies, France and Finland had demonstrated by switching on the microwave, the toaster, the electric oven and the washing machine. (Romano had forced open the lock on Germany's discarded suitcase and thrown all of Germany's underwear, socks and shirts in the washing machine at 100 degrees boil wash.)

"Right, this fuse box, where is it?" America asked, standing in the hallway.

Denmark, who for reasons dictated by the United Nations Security Council, spent six months of the year living with Norway and the other six months living with Finland and Sweden, knew what he was looking for. Sweden, he reminded everyone, wasn't just a good 'DIYer' and 'Flatpack Furniture King', he was also a reasonable electrician.

"There!" Denmark said and pointed up to a wooden box above the front door.

"Fucking A!" America yelled. He hoisted Denmark up onto his shoulders and promptly put him down when England marched in.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Changing a fuse!" America said.

"Health and safety first! Get a ladder, get some safety boots, a proper earthing kit and some earthing screwdrivers…" England wandered off and called behind him, "I'm going to the shed outside to get the toolbox. Just don't touch anything!"

America shrugged and hoisted Denmark onto his shoulders.

"This is easy, I've seen Ber do this tons of times… just you watch," Denmark said, opening the fuse box. He held a screwdriver between his teeth and he was grinning.

Finland stood a few feet away and covered his eyes. It was like one of those slow-motion crashes that you can't help but watch over and over…

"There… I think I got…" Denmark didn't even get to finish his sentence when there was a huge bang. Everything went off (including the washing machine in front of which Romano and Russia were sat watching Germany's smalls going round and round getting progressively smaller and pinker).

Denmark was flung across the hallway where he hit the opposite wall. He slumped there, his clothes smoking, his hair on end. A human would be dead. Denmark grinned happily, "What a ride!" he yelled. He felt his head - his hair was even more vertical than normal - and he gave the thumbs up at a dumb-struck America.

Meanwhile, England had other ideas. He was in the shed and had found something that could be the answer to their rescue from this awful castle. But first, it was getting dark and he needed to debrief his 'spy'.

Tinkerbell was easy to find - England only had to find Russia. And Russia was easy to find, England only had to follow the aura of dread.

He found Russia sat in the kitchen, and Tinkerbell sat on Russia's head, whilst the big Slavic Nation was about to show the Italies how to play a game called 'Russian Roulette'. England deftly took the gun from Feliciano's hand.

"That sounded like a great game, Mr Russia! Oh…" Feliciano said, sadly, looking around to see where the gun had gone.

England whispered, "Tinks psst…" behind Russia's back.

Russia turned around, "Are you alright, England? Do you need the toilet? Do you want me to accompany you to the bathroom?"

"Erm no… I'm fine…" England tried to look casual and began washing dishes. "Psst… Tinks…" he whispered.

He turned around and looked in horror at the tiny one inch fairy. She was not just sat on Russia's head. She was flat out and seemed to be unconscious.

"TINKS!" he yelled and then clapped a hand over his mouth.

"I don't stink!" Feliciano looked upset. "You think I am stupid because I am Italian or cowardly and that I don't have feelings… but I do!"

"Oh dear God!" England exclaimed. Of all the people in this house, Feliciano was the one with the most feelings.

"There there…" Russia patted the Italian on the head. "You can be one with me, North Italy. When you are one with Russia then nobody will make fun of you."

Italy jumped up and ran out. His brother stayed but England suspected it was only to look tough.

At least Scotland was not dead, he had moved position and was now asleep in the dog bed next to the fire with 'Wee Bertie' curled up with him. "I told them not to bring the bear…" Scotland muttered.

England shook his head, mad as a frog on a rocking horse, he thought.

"Russia…" he said and sat down next to him.

Russia looked up, "Da?" he looked happy. Most people didn't come up and sit next to him, not unless he threatened them first. Using staples to get people to stay in their seats at meetings was frowned upon.

"You have something on your head," England said.

"I do?" Russia felt on his head. "I'm not wearing my Ushanka am I?" he asked.

"No," England said. He almost said, 'you've got a fairy on your head,' but didn't of course.

"Oh good… I don't want people to think I am over-dressed," said the Russian from beneath his huge beige coat, scarf and pointing one gloved hand at England.

That was suspicious as well, England thought, the fact that the Russian was wearing gloves indoors. Was he trying to cover up?

"Erm no… you have something…" here England reached up and picked Tinkerbell off Russia's head. "It's a spider," he said, thinking quickly.

"Really?" Russia asked, his eyes wide. "Can I see?"

England shook his head, "It's a really huge Scottish house spider…"

Here Romano hurried out, to be met by Spain who told him to 'clean up', Romano told him to 'go to hell'.

"I like spiders," Russia told England.

"You do? Oh," England thought quickly. "Ah, but it might be poisonous…"

"Oh no! Really?" Russia put his hand to his blond head.

"But I'm sure you'll be fine…" England said hurriedly. He didn't want Russia freaking out. The idea of Russia freaking out freaked England out.

"Oh no!" Russia exclaimed.

"I'm sure you're fine, really…" England was saying quickly.

Russia's eyes were wide and horror-struck.

"Really.. It's probably not poisonous at all. I'm sure I'm wrong… I mean what do I know? I know nothing about spiders…It probably didn't even bite you!" England said and then yelped as Tinkerbell bit him.

"I'm not worried about me! I'm worried about somebody I was looking after! She was right there and… Oh no!" Russia looked panicky. "I'm really sorry, Mr England, but I think I lost your fairy."

Just as Russia said this, America skidded in, caught 'I lost your fairy' and skidded back out, muttering to himself 'Europeans, man… I'll never understand them.'

England stared at him (at Russia, not America - America was long gone). "What?"

"Your fairy… she got a little bit drunk on my vodka. I think she likes vodka. She told me how horrible you are to her…"

England frowned and ignored his throbbing palm where the fairy had bitten him and was now struggling weakly inside his clenched hand.

"She said that you had asked her to spy on me…"

"Some spy!" England blurted out and clamped his mouth shut.

"…I know! I said that you would never spy on me!" Russia said, a purple haze pulsed around him briefly.

England shuddered and shook his head so quickly he felt dizzy. "No… I mean no… of course I wouldn't… have a biscuit…" he said and shoved some Scottish shortbread towards Russia.

"And she drank a lot of vodka for one so small…" Russia continued.

"Really? Did she?" England asked.

"Yes and I showed her what I've been doing all the time I've been in this house…" here Russia leaned forward close to England conspiratorially.

England leaned back, still holding the fairy in his hand.

"I will show you if you want… when Tinkerbell saw what I've been up to, she said straight away that she wanted to be one with me."

England almost choked on a mouthful of shortbread, "One?!" England briefly opened his hand and Tinkerbell staggered out and flew, in a zigzag line to Russia and landed on his shoulder.

Russia nodded happily.

"But you're too…erm…"

"Wut?"

"Too erm… You're not a …"

"I'm not a fairy!" Russia nodded.

At this point, Denmark came in, took a look at them and hurried out, calling to America, "Dude you were right!"

"No, I mean you're too…" England searched for the right words.

"Russian?" Russia said with a menacing growl.

"No, no.. Nothing like that, I'm sure!"

Tinkerbell was shaking her fist at England and then fell over again. She was drunk, completely and utterly drunk, England noted. He was appalled. He'd have expected it from Captain Hook but not Tinks.

Russia grunted and gently picked up Tinkerbell and placed her in his pocket. "I will show you what I have been doing since we arrived here. You asked me earlier what I have been doing and where I was earlier, England," Russia stood up, picked up his pipe (which alarmed England somewhat) and motioned to England to follow him.

England also stood up, hesitated and then followed the Russian out.

When they had reached Russia's bedroom. England, was by now, very nervous. And rightly so.

Russia, all the way up the stairs, had said quietly, "You must not tell the others what you will see… It is between you and me, England…"

Russia turned to the Englishman, "Do I have your word that you will not speak of what is beyond this door?"

England nodded, he looked quickly over down the stairs at America and Denmark, who were giving each other electric shocks and 'Boss' Spain who was showing a bored-looking Romano how to mop a floor. At least they were in hearing distance…

"You have my word…" England muttered.

Russia nodded, satisfied. "If you tell anyone what is in my bedroom, I will kill you…" he said and then smiled creepily. He then took off his gloves and showed England dried blood on them. "I accidentally did this…"

England stepped back, "Oh my God!"

Russia nodded, "I know…" he said and opened his bedroom door…

England was shoved inside, his eyes widened in shock.

There, on the bed were several unfinished knitted scarves and very long and mis-shaped knitted jumper.

"But… the blood?" England pointed at Russia's hands.

"Oh da! I accidentally pricked my fingers with a knitting needle!"

"Oh la-la! What have we here? Can I join you for a threesome?" came a creepy French voice. France sashayed in. But, France did not get what he had hoped for. He saw the dried blood on Russia's hands (it is unsure why Russia did not just wash his hands) and promptly fainted.

England caught him, quite dramatically. "Oh mon amour!" France gasped as England French-dipped him.

England hurriedly dropped him.

"Jeez, guys! Keep it real up there!" America shouted up the stairs.

"Yeah dude! We're trying to work out why this power line was cut, man!" Denmark yelled and there was another 'bang' as Denmark clearly put his fingers in the wrong end of the power line…

**Next chapter - a sleepover with the Nations and ghost stories…**


	9. Ghost Stories

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: ScottishPrincess91, Tari J Deitrich, Silent Searcher, YugiohRulez, Green Eye, AngelicDemon678, Mitsukochan1, AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

The Vanishing

Chapter 9 - Ghost Stories

They all ate paella in the dark. Well, by candlelight. France said it was 'romantic'.

Romano, still trying to get out from under the yoke of 'Boss Spain' - who had put Feliciano to work scrubbing the floor, had been very upset when the washing machine had stopped but had cheered a little when he unloaded the machine and found Germany's smalls were very pink and very very small…

But Russia was the most upset. He sat glowering in a corner, drinking vodka and refusing to speak to anyone, other than Mr Pipe and his blood-stained Nokia. (Ivan missed Tinkerbell, who had been rescued, still unconscious from his coat pocket by England who had told him that she should really go to 'Fairy rehab' - Ivan did not really believe there was such a thing, but who knew?)

* * *

But soon night fell like a cloak upon the castle and the Nations were feeling very nervous.

England, for some reason, was the only one who was strangely cheery. He had found something in the shed that he believed was their key out of this miserable place - if only they could last the night. Whilst the item he had found in the cellar cemented an idea as to the identity of the perpetrator.

The Nations had unanimously decided that to stop the kidnapper striking in the night, they would all sleep in the biggest room in the place - the 'long gallery' which was at the very top of the castle.

Well, everyone apart from Austria and Scotland would be sleeping there in any case. Roderich had declared that "My government paid for a luxury double room, so I'm damned well going to sleep in a luxury double room. Kidnapper or not, that's coming out of my expenses pay, so I'm going to get my money's worth." He had then flounced off.

Someone shouted after him, "Don't forget to look after your wallet!" Austria had quickened his pace.

Scotland had proved near impossible to drag up the four flights of stairs and upon sight of the spiral staircase to the 'gallery', England and America had given up trying. "He'll be alright anyway," Alfred declared. "No one is going to kidnap Uncle Hamish, dude's crazy."

He then rampaged up the stairs, taking two steps at a time and chatting excitedly about how "awesome" it was going to be. "Like a jumbo sleepover with less candy and more ghosts, whoohoo!" (Clearly, Alfred was not afraid of ghosts when he was surrounded by his fellow Nations.) Arthur followed, less enthralled. Arthur would have preferred to stick his head in a vat full of toffee than have a 'jumbo sleepover' but he decided to say nothing.

* * *

It was for this reason that England and America were now trying to manoeuvre the largest mattress in the known world through a room littered with Nations making themselves at home and random sculptures and chairs which seemed to exist solely for the purpose of smashing into the back of Arthur's ankles.

Alfred wandered through the lines of furniture obliviously, "Left a bit, right a bit, no your other right, pivot!"

"If you say pivot one more time, I will end you," Arthur gritted his teeth as his shin hit a china cabinet.

"Hell yeah man! That's what I'm talking about!"

"What do you mean? Are we nearly there?" Arthur asked with the desperation of one who feels they have been walking backwards for eternity whilst carrying a ten ton mattress. Why he'd let the boy direct he had no idea.

"Yeah, man… just backwards a bit… back… back… careful… to your left… not that left, your other left…"

"I have only one bloody left!" Arthur yelled and backed into something.

"Watch out… you're going to…" Alfred trailed off.

Arthur put his hand out and touched something that felt remarkably like a padded wall.

"Privet Mr Amerika and Mr England, what are you doing? You are very funny… Mr England don't let your hand go any further down…"

"Shit!" England jumped and took his hand away quickly.

Russia was stood behind him holding a mattress under one arm and a pile of duvets and other linen under the other. In his arms the mattress (a double one) looked like it belonged in a dolls house.

"That was close!" America said as they shuffled along down the room, leaving the Russian to watch them with a weird grin on his face.

"I am going to kill you…" Arthur panted.

"To your left… pivot…"

Arthur doubted very much if Alfred knew what 'pivot' meant and was about to just drop the mattress and let America deal with it when America suddenly said, "Here we are!"

Arthur dropped the mattress on the hard floorboards much relieved. "Right, thank Christ that's bloody done. I feel as if I've carried that bloody thing all the way from bloody Portsmouth. Now we just need some bedding…"

Russia stomped over to them and dumped several duvets on England's head, grinning creepily. "There you go, that will keep you warm, little England…"

Denmark was stood behind the Russian, unable to see round the bulk of the Russian but unable to get round him either so stood hopping from foot to foot, grinning maniacally at England.

England, who personally had Denmark down as highly suspect, ignored him.

Russia dumped a tartan rug on the Englishman and then moved on, throwing duvets and linen at people as he went.

"I'm like the linen fairy!" Russia beamed happily.

Denmark sniggered.

"Denmark, can you pass me two pillows off Mr Russia please?" England said.

Denmark shook his head, "Nah man… I want them all to build a fort."

Russia turned round and looked at him through narrowed eyes and then smiled suddenly, patted the Dane on the head, "You are very funny, Mr Denmark," he said chillingly. "You should be very careful though about building forts and drinking… Drinking can get you into trouble… who knows who will disappear next, da?"

Denmark shrugged and carefully took an armful of pillows from the Russian.

Arthur frowned. Did the Russian just threaten the Dane? Arthur turned to America to see if he'd heard the Russian's words. But Alfred was oblivious and was just peering at the tartan rug in awe. "Is this the same stuff they make those skirts out of, Artie?" he asked.

"Aren't you worried about your friend, 'Gil'?" England called after Denmark. (He said the name 'Gil' with a shudder.)

"Nah man. Can't understand who'd want to kidnap Gil… he's a badass though… He'll turn up. He usually does. He's probably gone and fallen in a vat of beer again."

"Hmmm…" England frowned. The Dane, after the initial shock of Gilbert's disappearance had seemed remarkably un-bothered.

Russia beamed and cheerily whistled his way down the room. "Here's one for Mr Italy, one for Mr Spain, and Miss Lily…"

"He's my chief suspect," Arthur whispered to Alfred.

Alfred, who possessed no 'indoor voice' or any kind of volume control, yelled, "Who is? You mean my mate dude Den or Russia?"

England sighed and looked at his ex-colony.

America grinned at England and then said, "Don't worry, dude. I'll sort out Den…" he then shoved past him and went up to Den, "Yo man.. You need a hand with that there fort?"

Denmark was unsure about this, "I got my axe… I got my beer… I got four pillows…"

"Don't go too far away!" England called after him. He couldn't imagine having to explain to the US President that his Nation had been kidnapped. Sweden, Germany and Switzerland's losses were bad enough and no-one would particularly miss Prussia.

"Yeah… go and check with your dad that you can come with me, dude," Denmark said.

"He ain't my dad!" America said and then turned to England, "I'm only going down here with my dude!"

England was weighing up the probability of being able to steal a pillow from Den's 'fort' when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Mr England?" Lily stood behind him in a dressing gown and over-large pyjamas. "Sorry to bother you, but Mr France is trying to get into bed with me. He says there aren't enough mattresses and we need to double up."

Lily looked particularly vulnerable without Switzerland and his rifle looming behind her, but now, after the initial shock, seemed remarkably resilient and almost cheery.

"Bloody frog!" England marched up to the bed Lily had constructed between the wall and a moth-eaten sofa, grabbing the aforementioned Frenchman by the ear, "Stop bothering young Nations, or any Nations, or I'll hand you to the kidnapper myself!"

"You know who it is, mon cher?" France tried to weasel himself out England's grip.

"You know bloody well I don't," England hissed. "Now make your own damn bed or so help me God I will re-enact the battle of Agincourt right here in this sodding room." Arthur paused, "And in the name of Henry the Fifth, will you put some bloody pants on!"

"Oh mon cher! It is Azincourt, not Agincourt…"

But to England's relief, the Frenchman relocated to a recliner at the far end of the room.

"Privet, comrades!" Russia, it turned out, wore a scarf to bed, as well as a long-sleeved t-shirt with a bunny on the front, tatty checked pyjama bottoms and odd socks (one with a hole the size of Jupiter). This was something Arthur could have gone his entire long life without finding out, if it weren't for this ridiculous episode.

"Yes, well…" Arthur muttered, shifting closer to Alfred to put as much space as possible between himself and Russia as the big Arctic Nation stomped across to them and got onto the mattress - raising the other end several inches (with America still on it).

"This is good, da? It reminds me of when I would go to meetings with my little Baltics. I miss my Baltics," Russia sighed at the memory. "Estonia did not like sharing with me. But Toris did not mind."

"Dear Lord," Arthur shuddered and backed up even more until his back touched something. He didn't want to know what part of America it was.

"Dude England!" America said in his ear, and Arthur jumped. The 'boy', as Arthur still referred to America, had never mastered the 'whisper'. "This is totally badass, like my army days! Hell yeah!"

"For crying out loud, don't ever tell me what you bloody did in your army," Arthur managed to yank some covers out from under Russia and cover his head.

Russia grinned at them, "This is good, da? Superpowers together? Although Mr England is not a superpower. He is not even an empire…"

"Is this like your army days? Three men in a bed?" England whispered to America. He shuddered as Russia pulled out a vodka bottle from nowhere and started glugging. How do you tell a 6 foot 2 inch 200 pound Russian that you don't want to share a bed with them?

"Nah, man. Nothing like that. Just male bonding, yer know and cool stories."

"I know cold stories, da?" Russia misunderstood America's words. "Lots of people who went out into the winter snow, never to return." A purple haze swirled around him, and he smiled before snuggling down and closing his eyes.

Arthur stayed wide awake for the next few hours, sleep being completely impossible. Somewhere he could hear Spain and the Italies whispering to each other, or rather Spain chatting about something and Italy occasionally chiming in with a "ve," or "pastaaa!". France was also muttering to himself, or possibly his wine, at his end of the room and Denmark was tossing and turning in his pillow fort, causing the floorboards to creak.

But, for England, the main problems were the Nations in bed with him. America had kept nudging him so he couldn't sleep and had to talk to the ex-colony, then America had fallen asleep part-way through the hushed conversation with his arm slung over him like a barrier. England tried to wriggle his way out but failed.

Russia was even worse. He had somehow managed to take up most of the queen-sized mattress by sleeping both diagonally and spread-eagled thereby pushing Alfred and Arthur to the edge of the mattress where Alfred had to maintain his iron grip on England to avoid falling off. If that wasn't already bad enough, his snoring sounded like a steam engine.

Just as Arthur was considering getting up and having a glass of whisky - taking a torch with him in case he ran into the kidnapper - he heard a slightly squeaky shuffling noise.

"What the bloody hell…" he thought, feeling under his pillow for the torch. He found it and flicked it on, bathing the room in soft yellow light. He didn't feel scared - he was after all between America and Russia and couldn't imagine anyone getting through either of them.

"Ciao!" Italy squinted under the light of the torch, pausing where he was a few feet from the mattress. He was zipped into a sleeping bag and was wriggling along the floor like a worm.

"Italy, people are trying to sleep, what the bloody hell are you doing? Can you not just walk over here like a normal person?" But by the time England had finished talking, Italy had wriggled to the foot of the mattress and was trying to get into the space between England and Russia.

"I wanted to talk to you, Signor England!" Italy said happily and slumped next to England.

"Dear Lord, well alright then. Ow, bloody hell… Italy, you're on my arm!" But at least, England thought, you're between me and that psycho nutjob Russia.

"Sorry!" Italy shuffled to the side. "Signor England, big brother France says you think it's a Nation, not a ghost, that took Luddy-kins and Uncle Switzy and Signor Sweden and Gilbert…" Italy said in one breath.

England winced at the 'Uncle Switzy' - Switzerland would surely kill the small Italian if he'd heard him. "Bloody France. He just can't keep his mouth shut…" England cursed. "Honestly, is it too much to ask for a secret to stay a secret?"

"Si! Oh Signore Inghilterra, I hope you are right. I don't like ghosts, my Grandpa's old emperors used to haunt me and some of them are crazy…" Italy shuddered and pulled the covers around him. "I wish Luddy was here, I don't think I will be able to sleep until we find him."

"Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story, little Italy?" Russia said suddenly.

Italy squeaked, grabbing England's shirt.

"Well, I'm not sure about that…" England replied. Surely any Russian bedtime story would just creep everyone out even more than they already were.

But Russia just talked over him. "Once upon a time in the Motherland there was a girl named Snegurochka…"

"Yay! Pretty girl!" This appeared to cheer up Italy, who was now grinning happily again.

"Da. She was very pretty, and very nice too. But her stepmother did not like her, she preferred her own daughter, who was rude and bad." Russia shook his head at this.

"Why?" Italy looked at Russia in amazement, wide-eyed.

"Snegorochka's stepmother was a very bad lady. She would praise her daughter even when she did bad things, but always scold her stepdaughter and hurt her feelings. She was a greedy woman you see and only married Snegorochka's father for money and then spent it all." The purple haze was back and Italy trembled.

"The stepmother hated Snegorochka and she wanted her out of the way…" Russia continued.

"You mean like in the attic?" Italy asked naively.

"Nyet. Dead." Russia's eyes briefly glowed with purple fire until he blinked and smiled again.

"I hope this story has a happy ending," Italy said tentatively.

"Da! It does… in a way…" Russia said mysteriously.

"Bloody hell…" England muttered.

America snored next to him and murmured in his sleep, "Disney…"

"So the stepmother thought of a way to make Snegorochka's death look like an accident," Russia continued. "She sent her out into a winter blizzard without a coat telling her to find a rare plant which she had made up. Snegorochka was a nice girl and never disobeyed so she went into the forest without even a scarf to keep warm." Russia shook his head at this silliness.

"But Father Frost, the kind spirit of the forest, saw Snegorochka. He talked to her and found out that she was very nice and polite, much more so than the humans he usually met. He wanted Snegorochka to have a happy life, so he gave her a fur coat to walk home in and a chest full of jewels and coins so that she would be wealthy for the rest of her life."

"Wow! That's great! I like Father Frost!" Italy said, his eyes wide.

England shook his head and was tempted to ask where this 'friendly' forest spirit or whatever had acquired these goods. "Fell off the back of a lorry…" England muttered to himself.

"So Snegorochka returned home, and the stepmother was shocked to see her again at all, since she assumed that the girl would perish in the blizzard like so many others… She asked about the jewels and the coat, because remember she was a greedy lady and a horrible woman and wanted more. And she and her rude daughter set out into the forest themselves to find Father Frost."

"Wh… what happened to them?" Italy stuttered.

"Dear Lord… Did they use a sat nav?" England muttered but, despite himself, he was intrigued to hear the end, even though, he knew it was going to be bad.

"Father Frost does not often give gifts to mortal people," Russia looked as if he knew this for certain. "He would like to sometimes, but he must not interfere and only watch. And he knows who is worthy of his presents and who is not. The stepmother and her daughter tried to demand things of Father Frost and they were rude to him, so he left them there in the forest. There was a huge blizzard and they froze where they stood… Good night!"

**To be continued **


	10. A Cry for Help

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: ScottishPrincess91, Tari J Deitrich, Silent Searcher, YugiohRulez, Green Eye, AngelicDemon678, Mitsukochan1, AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

**The Vanishing**

**Chapter 10 - A Cry for Help**

It was morning…

England woke up and immediately wished he hadn't. His mad - in all senses of the word - older brother, Scotland, was looming over him, his red hair sticking out at all angles and a ragged tartan rug wrapped around him in the place of clothes.

"I'm no' happy!" Hamish shouted, his face inches from Arthur's.

Arthur winced, cringing away from his brother, and in the process backed into… a wall?

"Artie-dude!" America said, or rather yelled, in his ear. The wall, apparently, was Alfred. England again winced, covering both of his ears, which were now ringing and would probably never stop doing so.

"Er, yes, I am," England said, deciding not to bother admonishing the other Nation's use of his nickname. Instead he decided to address his brother. "Why are you not happy, Hamish?" He asked, trying to sound interested.

"Well may ye ask," Hamish said, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the bed - such as it was. "Ye see, little brother, when ah woke up this morn'n', hung-over, do ye know where ah found ma'self?"

"Not really," England replied.

"Ah woke up," Hamish said, "at t' bottom o' a spiral staircase, and do ye know why ah woke up?"

"Why did you wake up, Hamish?" England asked, after Hamish spent a few moments eyeballing him, obviously prompting him to ask.

"Because," Hamish began, "that bloody fool of an Italian fookin' stepped on me 'ead. An' then 'e cried like the wee girlie that he is." Scotland looked to his left in disgust, and England saw Italy holding a teapot and trembling. The trembling was causing tea to spill intermittently from the spout of the teapot, and Arthur had to restrain himself from yanking the teapot out of the Italian's hands.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. England! I woke up early because I always do because I like to get up and water my garden and have a nice breakfast of pastaaaa and I accidentally woke up Signor Russia and he said I should help him get coffee and tea for the morning so I went even though he's big and creepy and he scares me and I accidentally stepped on your fratello and I'm so sorry!" Italy started sobbing, and England shook his head, fighting his way out of the covers to rescue the tea.

"There'll be no need for that, Feliciano," England said, using the quiet, soothing voice he had always used with his young colonies to get them to sleep. He gave Italy an awkward pat on the shoulder. Italy sniffed and looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Are you sure, Signor England? I'm not in trouble?" Italy looked amazed at this.

"No, Feliciano, you're not in trouble. Just… try not to step on other Nation's heads, okay?"

"Yeah, man. Stepping on heads is uncool!" America said. He was making the bed military-style, which Arthur was pleasantly surprised about. He made a mental note to praise America at some point for that.

"Sì!" Italy grinned, and offered the teapot to Arthur. "I made a pot of tea for you, Signor England. You should take it, it's nice!"

"Erm yes, thank you," Arthur took the pot with some trepidation. America's attempts at tea were bad enough, who knew what Feliciano might have done with it? Oh well, tea was tea. He decided to go down to the kitchen and drink it.

"Well?" Hamish's strident voice made Arthur turn back with a sigh.

"Yes?"

"Why, in the name of Auld Willie and 'is great tartan kilt an' stockings, did ye and yer fool boy there leave me at t' bottom of staircase? Am ah no' good enough ter be up 'ere with t' rest of ye? Ah'll 'ave ye know ah've dined with world leaders, and some o' them didnae throw me oot!" With the words 'fool boy', Hamish pointed at Alfred, who looked around in confusion.

"Well, to be honest, we didn't think we could get you up the staircase…" Arthur began, but was cut off.

"I'm no' happy," Hamish repeated. "Ah'd leave, but this is ma hoose. An I'm stayin'. They'll never teck me alive!" With this, Hamish gathered his rug up around him and left dramatically with a hair flip that would've made France proud.

"Dude's gone," Alfred observed.

"Sì, he is," Italy agreed. "But I won't leave you Mr. England! You can count on me!" Italy grinned quite madly, and England shuddered.

"Oh, no," England muttered, before shaking his head and getting back to business. "Alright, well, I suppose we'd best see who's up."

"Ooh, I know, I know!" Italy stuck his hand wildly in the air. Alfred had to dart out of the way so the Italian didn't knock his glasses off. "Signor Russia is in the kitchen. He made coffee-"

"Hell yeah, I could use some coffee! Even if it's British and weird."

"-But I think he put vodka in it," Italy continued as if America hadn't spoken. "Papa Austria is still playing his piano, I think Big Brother France was talking to him and Papa Austria was telling him to go away… fratello is in the kitchen with Big Brother Spain."

"Right, right," England said, checking the various Nations off his mental list. "How about Finland, Lily and Denmark?"

"My dude Finlandia's asleep over there!" America yelled, gesticulating.

Something that Arthur had previously thought was a lump of duvets stirred and Finland's head emerged. "Not anymore," he snarled, and covered his head again.

"My bad!" America said, still not using anything close to an indoor voice.

"Signora Lily is in the bath!" Italy announced. England was briefly confused, before remembering that he'd asked about everyone's whereabouts. "I haven't seen Signor Denmark…"

"Dude's probably still in his pillow fort," Alfred said, and marched over to it. "Den, my main man!" He yelled, loudly enough to wake a dead body several miles away. Finland groaned. "We're going downstairs to get food. And beer!" Alfred waited for a few moments. "Beer!" He said again, and then turned to England, a little shaky. "Okay, uh… if he was in there that would've got him."

"I'll handle this," England said, gently moving America aside. Slightly impeded by Italy's hand, which for some reason was clutching his forearm, England started dismantling the pillow fort. Alfred watched with some interest, picking his nose.

Once the pillow fort was no more, Arthur, Alfred and Feliciano surveyed the scene (such as it was). Denmark's ever-present little hat, black with a red lining. A big axe. And, most worryingly, a bottle of Carlsberg beer sans cap, which had tipped over and was slowly leaking beer onto the wooden floor…

"Signor Denmark is gone!" Italy wailed, and buried his head in England's shoulder.

* * *

Later...

"Who would kidnap or harm Denmark?" England was asking.

No-one answered. He, America, the two Italies and Spain were sat in the kitchen.

Feliciano was clutching England's arm and urging him to drink his tea "…and then you'll feel much more relaxed, it's a special tea, Signore England" the Italian told England.

Romano was sorting Germany's smalls which were now very small and very pink. Whilst Spain was stirring a pot of something very tomatoey on the stove whilst still sporting a very large bandage. He was singing something in Spanish and sounded very forlorn.

Russia had wandered off muttering about 'his Baltics' and smacking his Nokia on hard surfaces as he went.

"Man, I miss that guy…" America said quietly.

"Denmark's only just gone…" England replied, thinking hard.

"Drink your tea, Signor England, I made it specially for you!" Italy urged.

"How do you know he's just gone?" America asked.

"The beer can was still dripping beer," England said firmly.

"He's nowhere to be found and I can't hear him!" Finland said, suddenly appearing in the doorway. "It's really not like him…"

"What? To wander off?" England asked.

"No, I mean you can usually hear him for miles. He's the loudest person I know," Finland replied. "Should we try to get help today? Walk to the nearest town or something?"

Finland seemed to be the only sensible person, apart from himself of course, England thought. "Shush, I'm trying think…" he muttered.

"Drink your tea, Signore England. It will make you feel better," Italy insisted, picked up the teapot and poured out a cup for him - albeit a little shakily.

"Yes, thank you, Feliciano," England said distractedly. But didn't touch his cup. "I wonder…Finland? When Denmark arrived did he say anything about if he met anyone on the way or where they went?"

Finland shook his head, "Not really… the usual rubbish."

England picked up his teacup and was about to drink when France and Austria came in - arguing.

"Oh do shut up, Francis. Bloody Napoleon this… He was a complete douche and you know it!" Austria was telling France.

"He was the greatest military strategist in French history!" France whined.

"Well that's not particularly hard is it? Who else is there?" Austria retorted.

"For God's sake, shut up, you two!" England said, putting his teacup back down. "I'm trying to think…"

"Oh stop being so dramatic, England," Austria said.

"Den's gone, man! Have some respect!" America told the Austrian. "Besides, where the hell were you? You could have done it! In your fancy bedroom… I bet you weren't even there! I bet you did it!"

Austria looked puzzled, which was not what America was aiming for. "Denmark has disappeared? Who would kidnap that lunk?"

France put a hand to his head, "Oh mon dieu! Eet eez terrible for one so young and innocent!"

Finland slapped him, "Young and innocent? He's a danger to everyone, especially himself! He's a complete hooligan! However, I and Sweden are in charge of him and… oh Berwald…" Finland sat down and looked very gloomy.

"Ha! It was you! Finland!" America yelled and pointed at him dramatically.

Finland stared at him and then shook his head, "American idiot…" he said and took a mysterious list out of his pocket and wrote the American's name down…

"Shut up, Alfred… I'm figuring all this out," England said and put the teacup to his lips and was about to take a sip when Russia came in looking triumphant.

"I've got a signal!"

"Get in! Dude… you need to ring my Prez!" America said, hurrying up to the Russian.

Russia stepped away from him, "Don't touch me," he said with a growl.

"Ring my Embassy, they are the most efficient," Austria said.

"Non! Ring mine! Zay are very very good… and tell them the wine here is awful and I need a consignment of Beaujolais 1964 sending along with some very big buff Special Forces officers to protect moi!"

"Ring the police… what's the number here, England?" Finland asked.

"999," England said. "Russia…"

But Russia wasn't listening to any of them. He had already dialed a number. "Privet? Privet?"

"Tell them to send someone quickly… we are at Chillingley House, postcode…" England began.

"House? This is a castle isn't it?" Austria asked.

"No, it's a house. It just looks like a castle, that's what Artie said," America told the Austrian confidently. "I bet they don't have castles in Australia?"

Austria ignored him and sat at the table with a plate of croissants and took a cup and was about to pour tea when Italy took the teapot from him, "That's for Signore England, I made it specially for him!"

"Well that's rude!" Austria said and wrestled with the Italian for the pot.

"Privet! Can you hear me?" Russia said into his phone.

"Shush everyone!" England said, holding up his hand. "Russia? Perhaps I should speak with them?" he said.

Russia shook his head adamantly. He then began speaking quickly, "Hallo? We need help… people are disappearing and I think personally that it's Prussia because he's a bad man… also my fairy went back to England."

England held his head in his hands.

"Dude tell them where we are!" America told Russia, dancing around in front of him.

"We are at Chillingley House," Russia said slowly and then nodded as if listening.

"Put them on speakerphone," England said. Beside him Austria and Italy wrestled with the teapot.

France said, "Tell them to send very young and fit policemen!"

"Nyet, that is Francis… he is very silly…da… da…" Russia listened and then said something that made England very very suspicious… "Da I know… and Denmark… yes he's very loud and he gives me a headache as well. Da, I'm amazed that Austria has not been kidnapped. He annoys everyone…"

"Who are you talking to, Russia?" England asked.

Russia switched on the speakerphone and they all heard, clear as day, China telling Russia, "It will be England doing it all. He still thinks he is an Empire and is trying to make everyone his colonies!"

"That's a lie!" England said, spilling his teacup in his anger.

Russia shrugged. "Anyway, will you send help?" Russia asked.

"No! I hope you are all kidnapped!" the voice on the other end of the phone said.

"Even me?" Russia sounded very hurt and his face fell.

"No… I suppose not…" China said and then said, "Oh, I'm going into a tunnel…" and the phone went dead.

"I can't believe that!" England spluttered. He shrugged Italy off who had refilled his cup.

"I know! I don't think that about you!" Russia said and then added, "I don't think you want them as colonies."

"Thank you!" England said.

"I think you just wanted to kill them!" Russia added.

England took a sip of his tea and did a spit-take. "What?"

Austria shook his head, "Bunch of idiots! Ring someone else, Russia," he told him as he poured a tea into his cup, glaring at Italy as he did so.

"You can't tell me what to do!" Russia said.

"Nah he can't, give me that phone, dude and I'll ring!" America said and then the two superpowers wrestled.

The Nokia shot up in the air, hit the ceiling and landed in Spain's tomatoey pot. The Spaniard looked up and then down and looked as if this was the final straw. "You are all stupido!" he yelled, his usually spaced-out happy persona cracking. "I don't like any of you! Apart from Romano and Feliciano and sometimes Francis although he and Gilbert left me tied to a lampost in my underwear. And I quite like Alfred…" Spain just about ran out of words and then flounced out with a dripping spoon.

"Well…" England muttered.

America and Russia dived, as one, towards the stove and both stuck their hands in the pot and then pulled them back out, yelping with pain as the hot tomato sauce burnt their hands.

"For heaven's sake. Everyone just calm down! I have an idea for getting out of here and getting help," England said, standing up.

"Mon ami… mon cher… I zink…" France began, putting a hand on England's arm.

England shook him off, "Get off me you perv…"

"But…Look everyone. Look at Austria!" France said, shakily. He pointed at the Austrian.

Austria had not disappeared or been kidnapped… He was face down in his croissants…

England, thinking this was very unusual for such a fastidious man and lifted the Austrian's head up. The Austrian's face was very pale, his violet eyes wide open. In his hand he clutched a teacup…

"He's been poisoned!" someone cried.


	11. Escape from Downton Abbey

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: MagicFlyingMintBunnies, ScottishPrincess91, Tari J Deitrich, Silent Searcher, YugiohRulez, Green Eye, AngelicDemon678, Mitsukochan1, AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

**The Vanishing**

**Chapter 11 - Escape from Downton Abbey**

"Shall I give him the kiss of life?" France asked, he was already puckering up and trying to get Austria onto the floor.

"Is he breathing?" England asked, shoving France out of the way.

"Out of the way, men! I know artificial insemination!" America declared.

"Artificial… oh never mind," England sighed.

"Honhonhon!" Francis giggled in a way that made England cringe.

"He's still breathing!" Finland said, holding his hand to Austria's mouth.

The Austrian appeared to be frozen. A grimace on his face (but that was always there someone pointed out), his violet eyes wide open in a surprise and one hand still holding his teacup.

"So he's not dead?" Italy cried. "Oh mamma mia! I'm so happy!"

"Really? How interesting…" England said quietly.

"What do you mean, dude?" America asked.

"Italy was the one who poured the tea," Finland said quietly.

"He made the tea!" Russia said.

England sniffed the teapot carefully. "It smells of… almonds…"

"Poison!" France cried, horrified.

"I made special herbal tea!" Italy said. "Honestly, I did! I would never ever ever ever poison Papa Austria!"

"Yes but did you attempt to poison Mr England? I think you did…" Russia pointed out.

Italy burst into tears.

Romano put his arm around him and scowled at everyone, "Look what you did! He would not harm anyone. He's too stupid!"

"I mean I like you, little Italy dude, but Russkie dude has a point. You were the one who made the tea… and so I, as the superpower here and so the leader, say that you are the guilty one and arrest you in the name of the President of the United States of America!" America declared.

Everyone ignored him.

Spain came back in, still holding a dripping spoon. "What's going on?"

"Italy tried to kill Artie but poisoned Austria dude instead," America said, pointing dramatically.

Spain looked appalled at this, "There is no way that Feli would do such a thing!" he put his arm around Feliciano and pulled him to his chest. "Don't worry little Italy, I will protect you. I'll protect both of you…" he added, looking at Romano (whose scowl deepened).

England was unsure about all this, "Let's get this straight… Austria is still alive?" he asked Finland (who appeared to be the only one not accusing anyone and was sensible).

"Yes, he's breathing. He's just stiff as a board."

"Honhonhon!" Francis sounded utterly delighted.

"Shut up France!" England shouted. "Let me think…"

"Someone help me to get him up so we can lay him down somewhere," Finland asked.

Russia came forward and picked Austria up and carried him to the music room. The Russian managed to unbend the Austrian's legs (Finland ensuring the Russian didn't break them) and stood him up against the piano (the teacup was still in the Austrian's hand).

"Well he's not faking!" Finland called to the others.

"Hmm…" England was deep in thought.

"Yes, he's such a hypochondriac! He once spent a whole century in a wheelchair for no reason," France told them.

"I dinnae like this at all," Scotland said finally, having watched the whole scene. "I'm going to make a run for freedom and get help." With that the Scotsman stomped out of the kitchen by the back door, thankfully taking his small growling terrier with him.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry, Signore England! I didn't mean to… and I didn't mean to fall over your brother and wake him up or to poison Mr Austria or…" here Italy was interrupted.

"Never mind that now, lad," England said. "The tea you used, where did you get it from?"

Italy sniffed and pointed to a box of teabags on the counter.

England frowned. "They're not the teabags I brought. I only drink PG Tips or Yorkshire Tea," he said.

Italy shrugged.

There was a commotion outside and America yelled, "Hey ladies! Put down your embroidery and come see this!"

They all hurried into the music room from where America was gesticulating and yelling.

"What the bloody hell?" England asked.

And well might he ask. They all stared out of the large window as Scotland, with 'Wee Bertie' balanced on his tartan tam o'shanter, sat on a ride-on lawnmower and was churning up the lawn that had once got into the quarter-finals for 'Best Garden of the Year 2001'.

England winced - not at the destruction of a once-fine lawn, but at the sight of his older brother's white hairy legs as the Scottish Nation sat astride the lawnmower.

"It's a shame Denmark wasn't here. He loves ride-on lawnmowers," Finland said sadly.

"What's everybody doing? Oh my God! Uncle Austria!" it was Lily. She came into the room and looked horrified at the scene before her.

England turned away from his brother's zig-zagging across the garden that had been designed by Capability Brown (who would surely be turning in his grave) and looked at Liechstenstein.

"Where have you been, young lady?" he asked in the stern voice he used when his colonies had been young and were being boisterous.

Lily was looking with concern at Austria's rigid body and looking very pale and shaken. "I've been in the bath," she explained. "Surely, you don't think I was responsible for this, do you?"

"Yo man! Look at him go!" America grabbed England in his excitement and also Russia (who was stood on his other side) and pointed out of the window at Scotland's traverse across the lawn and into the topiary bushes.

"Don't touch me," Russia growled.

Scotland shouted, "Alba! Freedom!"

America muttered to Arthur, "What's Alba?"

"It's an old name for Scotland," England muttered back.

They watched as Scotland, with Bertie on his head, ploughed straight through the topiary bushes (which England hated so much) and came to a juddering halt.

England turned to Lily, "I'll talk to you, later…" he said in a mysterious way. "But at the moment, I need to sort out my idiotic brother…"

"Do you suspect her, mon ami?" France whispered to England as they headed out into the garden.

England shook his head, "I'm just keeping someone on their toes," he whispered back.

"You zink ze kidnapper is still among us?" France whispered.

England nodded and put a finger to his lips. "I zink… I mean I think… that teacup was meant for me!" he whispered dramatically.

"Oh mon dieu! Zat is obvious!" France blurted out.

"Shut up! Fermez las bouche!" England said, completely slaughtering the French language.

"Hey Uncle Hamish, whatta ya doin'?" America asked when he reached the Scotsman.

Scotland fell off his seat and lay on the lawn (or what remained of it). "I dinnae know, laddie. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Is there much damage? This garden is supposed to be open for tourists next week."

England and France looked around. It looked as if the garden had been subjected to an elephant stampede.

America said, "It looks like a movie set!"

"Aye laddie, that's what we were hoping for," Scotland sounded pleased.

"It reminds me of the trenches in World War I. Or the Battle of Normandy…"

Scotland stood up and dusted down his kilt. He looked around. "It's nothing a bit of weeding won't fix."

"You've gouged out half of the lawn. Destroyed six flowerbeds. Demolished two topiary bushes. That one that looks like a rabbit is no more," England pointed out.

Russia joined them, "The bunny!" he exclaimed looking very sad. "I really liked the bunny!" He turned to Scotland, "You are a hooligan!" Russia told the Scottish Nation.

"Aye, I am that," Scotland admitted, quite proudly.

"Pretty soon there won't be any of us left." France said sadly.

England nodded.

"You know who it is, don't you, mon ami?" France asked him as they walked slowly back to the house, trying to dodge the mud churned up by the lawnmower which now stood like a broken testament to Scotland's impatience.

"Yes, Francis my little loon, I do." England said. "But don't tell anyone."

"Eet eez a Nation, you think?"

England nodded and then said, "Of course it's a bloody Nation! Who else knows we are here?"

"The KGB!" Russia said, suddenly appearing behind them.

"Where the bloody hell did you come from?" England almost yelled before realising who he would be yelling at.

"Secret ninja, da?"

England shuddered. "I have an idea, my little pervy friend," he said to France.

"I'm not pervy!" Russia said behind them.

"Not you!"

"I'm not little!" Russia said.

"I didn't mean you!"

"Neither am I your friend."

"Oh." England had no idea what to say to that.

Russia grinned at him like a loon and patted his head, almost hammering him into the ground, "Never mind Mr England! I heard what you said and…"

"All of it?" England asked. France, he noticed, had shimmied off to the house.

"Da! And I agree!"

"You do?"

"Da! I think someone is out to get you, England!"

"Me? But…" England spluttered. Had the Russian been listening? Had the Russian heard him and France discussing that it was a Nation and that he suspected who it was?

"Da!" Russia looked very cheery about this. He leaned in close to England, "I think they have been after you all along!" Russia said and began humming for no apparent reason.

"Me? But why?" England was appalled, for the thousandth time that weekend.

"Because you shout and tell people off and swear a lot and steal people's fairies." (America sniggered very loudly at this.) "I don't think any of the other Nations like you!" Russia said breezily. "But don't worry. I will protect you. You can count on me!"

England went very pale and hurried into the house. Where was everyone?

* * *

They were in the music room, having trailed half a ton of mud over the ancient carpets, they were all still looking out of the window (along with Austria, who bizarrely and quite grotesquely, had been propped up there as if he were looking along with them).

"What are ye all looking at?" Scotland said. He came in with America, patting the American on the head and saying "Aye yer've always been ma favourite nephew!"

"We were looking at you!" Finland said.

"Aye well, I think ye could all help me oot by making the garden look a bit more presentable before the tourists arrive next week. This house has to look a bit more spick and span before then yer know!" Scotland said, nonsensically.

"But Mr Scotland, it was you that made the mess!" Lily pointed out.

"Aye wee girlie and yer can all help make it right again," Scotland said. "They're filming that series Downton Abbey here next week."

"You are kidding me!" Lily exclaimed.

"I love that series!" America yelled.

England looked at the wasteland that was now the garden, the ruined fuse box and the mud on the carpets. "Well, good luck with that," he said ruefully.

"Right men, let's get this cleaned up, wash these carpets and help my Uncle Hamish Scottishland get this place ready for Hollywood, baby!" America yelled. He then added, "We might even find the other guys while we do it…"

England shook his head. It was hardly as if the other Nations were hiding under the dust. But he left them to it anyway and strolled back into the kitchen.

He found, to his annoyance, both Italy and Russia following him.

"I didn't poison you, Signor England. Honestly I didn't…" Italy was squeaking at him.

England nodded. He was putting the teabags used by Italy into a plastic bag.

Russia patted Italy on the head so hard that Italy fell over. "I think you are very small for a Nation, da? You should come and live in my house. Especially if you go around poisoning other Nations," Russia was telling him. He then turned to England, "Why are you doing that, England?"

"Evidence," England said and was about to say something else. But didn't believe he could trust Russia, also he didn't know if someone was listening…

"Hmmm… I understand," Russia said, nodding.

England doubted that he did. But he picked up his coat along with the bag of teabags (now encased in a supermarket carrier bag) and prepared to leave.

"Signor! Don't leave! I implore you!" Italy clung to England's right leg and was momentarily dragged along the kitchen floor as England attempted to leave by the back kitchen door.

"Little Italy. I think it is best this way. Let Mr England leave for his doom…" Russia said, almost quite chirpily.

"Nooooo!" Italy cried dramatically.

"Actually my fellow idiots. I have a cunning plan!" England declared, trying to extricate himself from Italy.

"Idiot?" Russia loomed over him.

"Er I mean… not you of course, Russia."

"That's okay then," Russia stepped back.

"Please Signor! Stay! I'll make you nice pasta!"

"Will it be poisoned?" Russia asked, interested.

England undid the back door and, finally shaking his leg free of Italy, he stepped out. "Try to dry out that phone of yours, Russia and when you do, ring the authorities, just in case I don't make it!" he called and headed out.

"He's so brave!" Italy cried and burst into sobs.

Russia pounded Italy again on the head (whether intentionally or not, it's unclear).

* * *

Outside, England, watched by unseen eyes, headed towards the garage at the rear of the house. He kept looking around and tensed every time he heard a sound.

The noise of random shouts from the house began to recede and he felt truly alone in the fog that the surrounded the grounds.

He knew what he had to do. It was, he thought, their last chance before they were all kidnapped and what then? Their fate left unknown to the rest of the world. Who could save them now? With these rather dramatic thoughts he went into the garage. Slammed the door shut behind him and surveyed the scene. There were no cars in here of course, but hidden under a dusty tarpaulin was the only road-worthy vehicle that could potentially get him to the nearest civilization.

He pulled the tarpaulin off and located the key for the vehicle. It was where he'd guessed it would be - in the ignition. So far so good.

A pair of anxious eyes watched through a hole in the wall…

* * *

Inside the house…

"If we help you clean up, will we get parts as extras in the next series, Mr Scotland?" Lily was asking Scotland.

"Yeah!" America agreed. He was currently using Austria's rigid body to clear the cobwebs from the ceiling, as if the Austrian Nation was an extend-able duster.

"Aye I think yer all can, lassie," Scotland said, taking a swig from his hipflask.

"Yay!" said Spain and began to lift one of the ancient moth-eaten, mud-covered rugs off the floor, "Give me a hand, Romano to clean this rug!"

"Why should I? I don't want to be in no dumb English soap opera!" Romano retorted.

"Is that what it is?" Spain asked. He scratched his head. "I had no idea! I thought it was a documentary about the English!"

"So did I!" America yelled but carried on using Austria as a dusting contraption anyway.

Lounging on a chaise longue (which was surely designed just for him) was France, sipping from his wine and flicking through a House &amp; Country magazine, ignoring the chaos around him.

Spain did not appear to have been damaged by the blow to his head, apart from a slight increase in doziness and clinginess to 'his' Italies. He realised then that one of 'his' Italies had disappeared. "Where is Feliciano?" he asked.

"Dumb brother's probably making pasta pizza," Romano grumbled.

But Italy burst into the room, shouting and waving his arms in the air, "Everybody everybody! Mr England has gone!"

Everybody stopped in their tracks. Even America - still holding Austria aloft by his ankles. France dropped his wine glass. Finland stopped dusting and looked around.

"No! This is an emergency, men! Battle stations!" America roared.

"Where has he gone, leetle Italy? Tell me! Oh my poor heart…" France grabbed Feliciano and shook him until the Italian's teeth rattled.

Spain, always a step behind everyone, just stared and said one long, "Ooooh…"

Romano grumbled, "Humph… who cares…"

It was Russia who restored order by strolling in and saying, "Mr England went out of the back door…"

France dropped Italy with a flump. "Oh Feliciano, you little scamp! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"He said he was going to find help…" Russia said slowly.

"Dude Artie riding to the rescue? That's my job!" America looked distraught.

"But I think he has met his doom," Russia added sadly. He then turned a ghastly smile on Italy, who promptly fainted.

"Oh no, poor Signor England!" Spain said.

"Actually, he's right there!" Lily exclaimed. She was stood near the window and was pointing. "Driving down the driveway!"

"But I thought all the cars were bust, man?" America yelled, dropping Austria on his head and joining her.

"They are…" she said.

She was right. And America was right. All the cars were indeed 'bust'. England was driving round the house and down the long and winding driveway on a… golf cart.

"What's that? That ain't no car!" America said.

"That's ma golf buggy," Scotland exclaimed.

"He's a genius!" Italy said, coming round to consciousness.

"He's crazy, man. How fast is that thing going?" America asked Scotland.

"It has a top speed of 10 miles per hour," Scotland replied proudly.

"I didn't know you played golf?" Finland asked.

America propped Austria up against the door - in effect using the Austrian as a doorstop - and ran out of the door to catch up with England.

Russia joined Lily, Spain, Romano and Finland at the window, "Do you think he will make it to the village?" he asked.

"I don't think he'll make it to the main road," Finland answered.

"We should make bets," Lily said.

"That's just dreadful!" Spain said.

"Is that because you have no money?" Romano said.

Spain nodded.

* * *

Out on the driveway, England chugged along in the golf buggy. America jogged alongside him.

"Yay! Artie dude! When you get to the village can you ring my Prez and bring me back some potato chips?" America yelled.

England nodded. The blasted thing was not going as fast as he'd expected. He cursed the damn thing. He had not even got to the end of the drive yet. But he was determined to get help. This was it - their last chance.

Italy ran up behind them, "Signor England! Let me come with you! Mr Russia was scaring me and they're now taking bets and I don't have any money!"

England sighed and tried to ignore him. In fact he tried to run over the little Italian by steering close to him. But the damned idiot misconstrued and jumped onto the buggy. (By now the speed had slowed to a desultory 5 miles per hour - America had to slow down his jog and was now speed-walking alongside him.)

"Oh Mr England!" Italy said, hugging the Englishman. "I'm so glad I'm with you!"

"I'm bloody not! Get off me you little moron! This buggy isn't big enough for the both of us."

"Oh Mr England, you don't mean that?" Italy wailed miserably.

England was scrunched up in his seat with Italy sat beside him. "Stupid bloody foreigners," he muttered to himself as he steered the buggy down the driveway. He ignored America yelling a verbal shopping list at him. He could see the end of the driveway but there was a huge iron gate across it.

"Alfred! Open the bloody gate!" he yelled. He adjusted his tie and prepared to drive on towards the village. He couldn't remember which way he had to go, but surely there were signposts?

America nodded and saluted, running ahead in great bounds, the American flung open the gates and yelled, "Go Artie go! For freedom and victory!"

Arthur nodded and saluted back. He put his foot on the pedal with a determined look on his face. After all, he was Great Britain.

The buggy shot forward in a sudden burst of speed and then stopped. The engine - such as it was - died.

"What the bloody hell?" England exclaimed.

"Oh no, could it be something to do with that dial there?" Italy pointed to the petrol gauge. It read 'empty' mockingly at them.

England put his head in his hands and groaned aloud.

* * *

Meanwhile at the house…

"Well that didn't last long…"

"I know, who bet ten pounds he would make it? Really? Come on pay up…!"

"I was so sure…"

France, however, was having no part in any of the wagers. He wandered into the kitchen and sauntered/swaggered into the cellar, singing a bawdy French song to himself about debagging English Kings. He was a little drunk and therefore, a little brave. He giggled to himself as he picked through the bottles of wine. "Honhonhon… ah oui… which one shall I drink? Zis one or zis one?"

The Frenchman slow-danced with a wine bottle, holding it tenderly to his cheek. "Ah je t'aime so much…" he murmured lovingly to the wine. But then something caught his attention. A pair of silk stockings were thrown at his head.

"Qui est ce?" France asked, utterly delighted. "Zis is going to be wonderful!" He crept towards the door and peered out, already undoing his trousers in anticipation.

But it was not going to be wonderful. France was coshed over the back of the head and everything went black…

***To Be Continued ***


	12. French Kisses

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: Yui-Kun12, MagicFlyingMintBunnies, ScottishPrincess91, Tari J Deitrich, Silent Searcher, YugiohRulez, Green Eye, AngelicDemon678, Mitsukochan1, AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

**The Vanishing**

**Chapter 12 French Kisses**

"He died as he lived, doing what he loved best…" the eulogy was by Spain, who spoke as if in prayer.

They were standing over the remains of the smashed bottle of wine, France was nowhere to be seen.

"You mean he died drinking wine?" America yelled, even though they were all stood in a tight circle.

"Aye, laddie, that as well," Scotland said mysteriously.

England shook his head, "Bloody France. He's probably messing about somewhere looking at dirty magazines."

"You're in denial," Scotland told him. "It's a sad day…"

"We know you'll miss him," America said, clapping England so hard on the shoulder that he fell over.

Spain helped him up, "Don't worry, England. I miss him too…"

"He's only been bloody gone for what? An hour?" England spluttered.

"It feels much longer," Spain said quietly.

Scotland nodded and wandered off to the music room where he picked Austria up from where he was holding the door open and plonked him down next to the piano. He then (Scotland, not Austria) found his bagpipes and began playing some lament.

"What is that insufferable row?" England yelled.

"We should all say a few words about Francis," Spain said quietly and sadly, his brown eyes filling with tears.

"He was a bloody pervert," England said decisively and marched off to have words with his brother.

"He once made my bra undo just by looking at it!" Lily said sadly and sniffed.

"He did that with my flies once," Feliciano said and hugged Lily.

"I dunno. I thought he was just weird and old," America said and scratched his ear, thinkning hard.

"I liked him," Russia said suddenly and surprisingly. (Usually Russia was famed for not liking anyone.) "He was my ally sometimes and I liked his radio show."

"Radio show?" Finland asked, frowning.

"Da!" Russia nodded and then went red and muttered something about the 'Ask Francis Radio Show'.

"I didn't know France had a radio show?" Finland asked again.

Nobody was listening.

Spain continued, "And we are gathered here today…"

"I will miss Big Brother France!" Italy suddenly sobbed and was hugged by his brother. "Although when I rang his radio show he told me to man up and give some of my art treasures to him."

"Yes, he was a sneaky bastard," Romano nodded.

America had obviously stopped his thinking because he said, "Well Francy-pants brought me up and I won't have a bad word said about him… Apart from the fact that he tried to make me eat fancy French rubbish… and he tried to teach me to speak funny…"

"You mean French?" Finland asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That as well. I mean it worked with my bro… but not me. And he put weird stuff in my school lunchbox… garlic sauce and all that. Him and Dad England did a lot of arguing over that…" America continued, giving the Nations some unremarkable (and nonsensical) insights into his upbringing.

Russia shook his head. "At least you had a lunchbox. I had to kill a yak on my way to school for my school dinner."

There was some uncomfortable shuffling.

"Francis was a connoisseur of wine and women and…" Spain manfully continued.

"…But I made friends with them instead," Russia said, continuing his own little conversation with himself.

"What? With the women?" Finland asked, confused.

Russia blushed bright red. "Women? No! I don't know any women! Only my sestras! I mean I made friends with the yaks."

Finland frowned but had spent enough time living in Russia's house to just sometimes let the Russian's weirdness go. He instead asked Spain, "Why are we having this service for Francis when he might not even be dead?"

"Yes, he might be being tortured in the most dreadful ways imaginable…" Russia said and then proceeded to tell them these ways the Frenchman could be tortured.

Italy's sobs renewed. Romano just nodded. Finland's eyes widened. Lily went pale.

Spain took a deep breath and switched the stove off. The tomatoey substance that had been bubbling away for the last three hours finally stopped. "Nobody's taking this seriously!" Spain said and it looked as if the happiest Nation was actually going to lose his temper. "I only survived because…"

"You have a hard head?" America finished for him.

Spain slowly thought about this for a long moment and then declared, rather dramatically everyone thought, "I cheated death!"

"Well death can go and kiss my ass!" America declared. "I'm getting out of this crapsack place and going to get help like a hero should!" He nodded to each of them in turn and, picking up Switzerland's rifle, stomped out of the back door.

There was a moment where everyone just shrugged at each other before the door opened, America strode back in, frowned, peered at each of them and said, "Anyone seen my glasses? Oh well, I don't need them… Wrong door, dudes. See yer later, smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast!" and with that strange declaration, he headed back towards the front of the house.

"I didn't realise America wore glasses. You live and learn…" Finland said.

"Do we have kippers?" Spain asked.

"Well… that's the last we'll see of him!" Russia said, with a great deal of satisfaction.

Italy's eyes widened, "I'm going to tell Signor England about this! He told Mr America not to go too far!" he said and hurried off to find 'Signor England'.

* * *

England was in the music room, drinking tea (made by himself and with his own teabags) and attempting to question Scotland about the layout of the house.

"The cellar door, where does it lead to? Scotland are you listening?" England had to shout to be heard.

Italy skidded in, "Signor England!" he yelled and then stopped to put his hands over his ears. "Why is your fratello torturing that cat?" he asked, pointing at Scotland.

Scotland ignored them all and carried on playing his bagpipes.

"What is it, Italy?" England sighed, sipping his tea.

Italy held his hands over his ears and looked as if he were in pain.

England pulled the hands from the Italian's ears, "What?" he yelled in the Italian's face.

"Mr America has disappeared!" Italy finally said.

England staggered backwards as if hit. "No… Oh my God. First France and now…"

"Actually, Uncle Switzy was the first," Italy said and then added, "And then it was Mr Sweden and then… oh and then… Luddy-kins…" Italy said, counting them off on his fingers.

England seemed to go into a panic. He ran up and down much like Italy would do, waving his arms around. Stammering and spluttering and then finally his 'fratello' - Scotland - put down his bagpipes and slapped him smartly around the face several times.

England shook his head several times as if coming up for air, pulled back his arm to punch his brother but was distracted by Italy.

"Signor England! America went outside through the front door and he's nowhere to be seen…"

"I can be seen! I'm right here!" America yelled, skidding into the room, straight into Austria who was still standing stock-still, knocked him over and then stood him back up as if he were a statue. "Duuude," he said to Austria as if the Germanic Nation had deliberately bumped him.

England fainted with relief and came back to consciousness when Scotland threw a perfectly good cup of tea in his face.

"Pull yerself together, man! Yer needed!" Scotland yelled in his face.

"Dude Artie, come see!" America yelled. "The boy" was pointing out of the window. He had propped Austria up so it looked as if Roderich Von Edelstein was also looking.

"No, I bloody well won't," Arthur said crossly. "I thought you'd gone bloody missing. Are you trying to give me a bloody heart attack?" he asked.

Alfred considered this, "No…" he said, quiet honestly.

"We're so glad you've been found!" Italy exclaimed, putting his arms around the bewildered American.

"He wasn't bloody missing was he?" Engand said, still cross, wiping the tea from his face.

"Send him to bed without any supper, Arthur," Scotland said, nodding sagely. "That's what we used to do when he was but a nipper."

"But but…" America spluttered. He had no idea what was wrong. He continued to point out of the window. In fact, he lifted Austria's right hand (the left hand still holding a cup of tea) and pointed out of the window.

"You probably want to point out some flower or something that you think is 'quaint' because everything is bloody big in your country," England yelled. "It's not funny!" Arthur, though he wouldn't admit it, was grumpier than usual… which had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that France hadn't been seen for the past two hours. No, nothing at all.

"Man! It's not a flower," Alfred protested, still pointing. "It's bigger than that. You really need to see this, dude."

"A bloody tree then, I suppose?" Arthur said, holding his empty teacup and wondered if he could trust Italy to make him a fresh cup. "Either way, it's hardly something that I need to see."

"You do though, man," Alfred insisted. "It might be an important clue."

Arthur sighed. "If I come and have a quick look, will it shut you up?"

Alfred considered this for an inordinately long time. "Probably not."

"Fine!" Arthur stomped over to America and stood beside him, thinking as an aside, that it was ever so slightly weird to have Austria as some kind of mobile statue. He also wondered why Austria, who was usually so particular, had cobwebs on his head.

"Okay, what is this bloody important thing I'm supposed to be looking at… oh good Lord!" Arthur stepped back a bit and blinked hard, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. They were not.

On the lawn, probably around 10 metres away from them, a figure lay prone. A male figure, with blond hair that even from here looked like it was annoyingly well-styled. "That's… that's France!"

"Is it?" Alfred squinted, unable to see much without his glasses. "I was looking at the cloud that's shaped like a pe-"

"Come on, you fool!" Arthur grabbed Alfred by the elbow, dragging him from the room. They both almost crashed into the door before they were outside, stumbling into the mud.

"Dude, the cloud is funny and all but I dunno if this is…" Alfred began, as Arthur continued pulling him along by the arm. The Brit stopped, abruptly, a few feet away from France, who was still lying on the ground. "Oh, France…" Alfred said, realization dawning.

"Yes, France. What did you think we were coming out here to see, an obscene cloud? And whilst we're on the topic, why in the name of George IV's trousers did you think I'd want to see such a thing?"

America shrugged. "Funny."

Arthur rolled his eyes. He looked down at the still unmoving Nation on the ground. France looked almost peaceful like this, his hair being gently moved by the breeze and flopping forward onto his forehead. His clothes were slightly crumpled and muddy from the ground, which he would undoubtedly lament once he regained consciousness, but he was otherwise unharmed aside from a smallish bump on his temple.

"Well, I suppose we've got to bring him round," Arthur said, trying to mask his relief at having another ally, and one that had some brain power to speak of.

"Right," Alfred said, "you take his legs, I'll take his arms." He began moving towards France's head before England threw his arm out to stop him.

"Why?" England asked, perplexed. "Where do you think we're going with him?"

"Round!" Alfred answered. "If you don't wanna carry him that's cool, lemme know so I can do my fireman's lift." The American flexed his muscles in a demonstration.

"No, no, that's quite alright," Arthur said hurriedly, rubbing at his temples. "What I mean is, we need to wake him up."

"Oh," Alfred seemed disappointed at this. "Well, don't you know about the third-aid-thingy?"

It took Arthur a few moments to realise what his ex-colony meant by this. "You mean first-aid."

"That as well."

"Yes, I suppose I do," Arthur replied. He had been required to learn basic first-aid during his military years, as he'd assumed Alfred also would have, though knowing him the boy had either forgotten all of it or exasperated his commanding officer enough to have been excused. "I should put him in the recovery position first."

In fact, Arthur's first-aid was very rusty, much more so than he would've assumed. "This… is the recovery position." He announced proudly. The Frenchman was now face-down, his arms and legs splayed in all directions.

Alfred cocked his head. "Are you sure about that? He doesn't look recovered."

"Well he won't yet. You have to give these things time to work." Arthur snapped. In truth he too was beginning to doubt the effectiveness of the "recovery position". "…Perhaps I should give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to speed things along."

Alfred shrugged. "Rather you than me."

Arthur lowered himself gingerly to the ground, wincing a bit when his knee landed in some mud. He turned the Frenchman over carefully, looking at France's face with trepidation. Francis' lips were quirked up slightly, and Arthur shuddered. He looks like he's grinning at me. Bloody French. Slowly and with much reluctance, Arthur lowered his face towards France's. Alfred squinted at the scene (without his glasses he could barely see). Inside the house, the bagpipes started to play again.

Arthur's lips met Francis', but before he could actually attempt mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, the Frenchman's eyes shot open.

"Oh mon amour! I did not know you cared so much!" Francis flung his arms around Arthur, unbalancing him so that England landed on France in a heap.

"Unhand me!" England yelled, bright red and disgusted.

"Dude, you kissed France," Alfred said wonderingly.

"I bloody well did not. I was giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation." Arthur squirmed his way out of France's embrace and wiped at his lips. The faint taste of wine quickly disappeared from his mouth, but he knew that it would never truly be gone from his soul.

"You kissed me," France teased, slithering towards Arthur. "But you need to work on your technique, mon amour. So very clinical, no wonder you are still single."

"It was clinical because I was giving you bloody mouth-to-mouth!" Arthur shouted.

"Ah yes…" France smiled. "It was a moment that I will always treasure."

"Ugh… and to think I missed you for a moment there," Arthur stood up, dusting himself off. "Well, gentlemen, I suppose we should get back to work."

"Non, I zink I will stay 'ere. Eet eez nice," France answered, stretching out on the grass. "Ze Scottish countryside is so very… er, wild."

"Suit yourself," Arthur said. "Come along then, Alfred; the two of us will go back to the big house where all the wine is and leave France out here by himself, at the mercy of the kidnapper…"

England had barely turned away before a hand grabbed at his ankle. "Non! Oh mon amour, even you cannot be so 'eartless!"

Arthur smiled. "Actually, I do believe I can. Lead the way, Alfred old boy!"

"Hell yeah!" Alfred strode off, but the two of them were only halfway to the house when France caught up with them.

"I hate you, Angleterre," France panted.

"Indeed you do," England said proudly. And so all was back to normal… almost.

* * *

Back inside the house, talk quickly turned to what had become of France in the hour or so since his apparent disappearance.

They sat around the kitchen table, while Francis took great gulps of wine and reveled in the attention.

"Ah, it was wonderful," France said with a sigh.

"What." Arthur said, pausing with the now-lukewarm tea mug inches from his lips. He had expected France to say various things about his brief capture, but this wasn't one of them.

"Yeah, dude," for once Alfred was in agreement, furrowing his eyebrows at France. "How come it was wonderful? Was it someone you knew?" Alfred's mind, such as it was, worked overtime. "I bet you know it is! You're in with them and you kidnapped yourself!" he stopped when he saw Arthur shaking his head at him. "No… that's not right…"

"Oh, ma petit Amerique, I shall tell you why it was so wonderful," France said wistfully. "I was tied up! Ze ropes were not so tight and I told zem to tie zem just a little tighter and asked if I could tie zem up! But zay did not answer!"

Arthur shook his head in disgust but listened anyway in fascination. Russia looked as if he were going to ask a question but thought better of it. The Italies and Spain were just sat with their mouths agape. Finland, having been used to extreme weirdness living with Russia for over a century, just shook his head. Lily looked shocked.

"Ah, and I told zem zis. I said 'ooh la la! You must know me very well, mon amour, to know zat I like zis. Perhaps you should take off your clothes and zis blindfold and I can get to know you as well, non?'"

"Dear Lord," England said, disturbed. "And what happened zen… I mean then?" He felt slightly sorry for the kidnappers.

"Je ne sais pas," France replied, shaking his head sorrowfully. "I felt a sharp pain in my 'ead, and ze next thing I knew you were kissing me." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and England shuddered.

"So," Alfred began slowly, piecing the chain of events together in his mind. "You got captured by some dude person, then you flirted with them, then they gave you back?"

"Oui," France said sadly, and dropped his head into his hands. "Eet eez so sad. Zay seemed so strong when zay lifted me into ze chair… we could have had such fun."

"Zay were strong, you say?" Arthur said, for a moment taking on a French accent and not realising. This seemed, to England's confused mind, to be an important clue. (Not the French accent - that wasn't an important clue, that was just England's subconscious getting the better of him..)

"Yeah, Artie-dude, keep up," America said.

England slammed his tea mug down on the table, not caring when some of the tea spilled, and clicked his fingers. America and France both turned to him, alarmed. "Fellows! I think I've got it!" But before he could tell them what he 'had', he turned to Alfred and said, "Alfred, where are your glasses?"

Alfred squinted at him, "Dude, I dunno. I put them down somewhere and now they're gone…"

To be continued…


	13. Arrested Development

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: Yui-Kun12, MagicFlyingMintBunnies, ScottishPrincess91, Tari J Deitrich, Silent Searcher, YugiohRulez, Green Eye, AngelicDemon678, Mitsukochan1, AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

**The Vanishing**

**Chapter 13 - Arrested Development**

"I do not understand it… we could have had such fun!" France lamented and poured himself another glass of wine.

Russia shook his head, "You were lucky that you weren't chopped into little bits like Mr Switzerland and Mr Germany…" He didn't mention Sweden, Finland was stood next to him looking worried and Russia really wanted Santa to visit him this Christmas.

Feliciano looked set to burst into tears again. Romano shook his head at Russia, but hid behind Spain.

"You zink zay did not find me attractive?" France asked, looking shocked.

"What about any of the others? Did you hear Prussia or Denmark whilst you were erm… tied up?" England asked, attempting to get any clues out of France at all. Surely, those two imbeciles were the noisiest Nations. He would have expected France to have heard them.

France shook his blond head.

America was pottering around the kitchen, "Man! I wonder where I put my specs? Has anyone seen them?"

Nobody answered him.

Russia thought that spectacles were only worn by 'weaker' Nations like his own secretary, Estonia, Austria (who was still propped up somewhere) and… another one that he couldn't quite think of.

"Can't you think of anything at all? Any additional clues?" Arthur asked.

"Well I had them when I went upstairs and Dude Gil disappeared and when little Finlandia here disappeared right in front of me through that there panelled wall and…"

"No! I'm not talking about your bloody specs! I'm talking about Francis and his abduction."

"It was so brief… a passing fling and no more… ah eet was over before it began…" France bemoaned.

England shook him, "Did you see, hear or even smell anything? Anything at all?"

"I was blindfolded mon ami… so wonderful."

"Did you see Berwald?" Finland asked, looking a little desperate.

"Or my brother?" Lily asked.

"Or Luddy-kins?" Feliciano asked.

"Or my dudes Pru and Den singing or burping… I'm really worried about them," America said. "Or my specs?"

France looked up, "I zink…" he began.

They all leaned in to listen.

"I zink…"

Arthur shook his head. "Damn frog! Out with it! Stop teasing everyone!"

"I smelled…"

"You certainly do!" America declared and then whispered to England as an aside, "I blame all that garlic."

"…The sea!" France managed to say.

England swiped him around the head, "Idiot! Of course you can! We're only a few miles from the bloody sea!"

"Well I can't see anything," America announced.

"Go and borrow Austria's specs, he won't mind… well he will, but he won't know," Finland suggested.

"Alfred, I need a word with you," England said and began pulling him to the door.

"Aw man! I wasn't going to steal Australia's specs! It wasn't my suggestion anyway, it was that little dude's. I wonder if he's the kidnapper…"

"He's Santa. I think he's above suspicion really," England said quietly, pulling him outside.

"Yeah well... I suspect everyone like you said…"

They were walking up and down near the destroyed topiary. England paused and looked around. He could feel eyes on them. Not just the other Nations were watching them, he was sure.

"Alfred, I have something to tell you…"

"Dude, is this something important?"

"Actually it is and I want you to listen…"

"Yep, okay, I'm all ears…"

"What I'm going to tell you, you have to keep to yourself, okay?"

"Yes, of course!" America's eyes went wide.

"I mean it's important it doesn't get back to the others, okay?"

"Man! I know what you're going to say," America said suddenly.

"You do? Really? I doubt that…" England frowned.

"I mean, man. I've kind of always known."

"You have? Oh that's a relief!"

"Yeah man, I mean I always guessed you and France were gay for each other and…"

"No! What the bloody hell in the name of Churchill!" England looked aghast and began stomping off angrily. "I was going to tell you who the bloody kidnapper is!" he growled.

Behind him, America was about to say something but suddenly the ground literally opened up and he fell through a cleverly concealed trapdoor, which snapped shut behind him.

"Bloody idiot American… I was about to tell you that the kidnapper is…" England stopped and turned round, wondering why the 'boy' had gone all quiet. But he was nowhere to be seen. "No bloody focus. I wish the bloody boy would bloody concentrate and not just bloody wander off!" he said to himself and stomped back to the castle.

He stomped back in the kitchen, to find everyone had buggered off (to coin his own phrase) and were in the music room.

His heart gave a little jump as he saw Austria sat at the piano, but alas probably the only person (apart from himself, Finland and Lily) who could be relied upon to be half-way sensible was still not conscious. The other Nations had just sat him, still stiff and unresponsive, at the piano whilst Hamish played the bagpipes around him.

Usually Hamish' bagpipes would cause the Nations to confiscate the said instruments but they all looked dejected and pensive, so Hamish' Scottish jig livened the place up a little and took their minds off their fate. For a while at least.

France kind of deadened the atmosphere a little though. He was lounging on a sofa and telling the Italies how the kidnapper was 'misunderstood' and only 'his love could set them free'.

The Italies looked utterly confused and quite upset in turn. Spain kept trying to lure them away with promises of some kind of tomatoey soup.

"Is Alfred in here?" England asked.

Russia looked around. "I cannot see him. Is he gone?" Russia looked pleased about this.

Hamish' bagpipes suddenly stopped their screeching and silence descended while everyone waited with bated breath.

"Perhaps he has been kidnapped as well?" Russia continued chirpily.

England's eyes widened, "No! That's it!" he yelled. "That is definitely it now! I am most completely and utterly…" words failed him for a moment.

He charged up and down the room, alternately closing and opening the curtains like a madman, taking France's wine glass out of his hand and downing it and then take Scotland's bagpipes from him, opening the piano lid and shoving them under, slamming the lid with a loud bang. The Italies held one another, Spain frowned, France muttered "Mon dieu!"

Lily stepped out of the way and tried to think of something soothing, and failing, she sat next to Austria at the piano. Russia smiled creepily. Finland shook his head (his own head, not Russia's…)

"I'm really cross now!" England declared.

Everyone looked at each other nervously. Even Russia stopped smiling.

"I'm sure he'll turn up," Lily ventured. "Shall I make you a cup of tea, Mr England?" she asked tentatively. Anything to stop the Englishman from losing his temper. Nobody wanted that.

However, England appeared to have progressed to the next stage of his anger, he was now 'fuming' he told them.

Spain was already sliding away towards the kitchen and it looked as if the Italies were thinking of going with him.

Nobody really wanted to be around when England went into full 'livid' mode or even 'ballistic' mode. That's when he was more likely to don some pirate gear and start retaking colonies.

However, just as England was about to reply to Lily's question, the doors burst open and America practically fell in as if pushed.

"Yo!" America said and then repeated himself when nobody answered, "Yo?"

"Alfred! Where on earth have you been? I was quite worried for a moment," England said and then tried to look nonchalant.

"Da, he was," Russia said, now bored.

"I've been…er… doing hero stuff!" America told them.

England peered at him, "You look different…"

"I do? Well that's cos you're you and I'm me… I mean… it's cos you need a cup of tea!"

"Non! Eet eez because…" France began to say, standing up and pointing at America, swaying dangerously.

America grabbed him and sat him back down, "Shush France… Francy-pants…why don't you drink some more wine?"

"Ah yes! I know why you look different!" England exclaimed.

"Er why?"

"Because he doesn't look as stupid as he normally does," Russia concluded.

America glared at him.

"You found your glasses!" England said. "Well done, my boy!"

"Er yeah! I sure did!" America said, adjusting his spectacles, pulling his bomber jacket around his shoulders and then began messing with his hair.

"I need to finish our little talk," England told him.

"What talk, dude?" America said, preoccupied with his hair and then fiddling with his jacket.

"You are not…" France began to say.

"Gay! No, I'm not gay!" America said, nonsensically. He took hold of France and led him away to the kitchen, "Come on, Francis, I'll make you a champagne cocktail."

"Ah you will? You are my favourite son in all ze world…" France slurred.

"He's not your bloody son!" England yelled, following them.

"Zere is champagne…" France burbled wonderingly. "Why did no-one tell me zis?"

"Well Scotland, I mean er Uncle Hamish told me," America said, pulling a bottle out of the pantry.

"He didn't tell me," England shot an accusing look back at Scotland.

"Sing that song again, France," America said to France as he poured him a drink.

England shook his head, "What's got into you, Alfred?"

"What?" America looked up, confused.

"Anyway, I'm glad you found your glasses, that's a bloody carry on, getting you to the bloody opticians. I was about to tell you who I think the kidnapper is and it's…"

"Russia!" America said.

"What?"

"Can't you hear me? Shall I shout a bit louder? It's Russia!" America yelled - although this didn't deafen England as it normally would.

"You think it's Russia?"

"Of course it is, dude! Who else would it be? That's what you were going to say, wasn't it?" America turned to France and nodded his head for him.

France giggled, "Ah I've always lurved you… leetle…"

"Well I honestly thought…" England began.

"No, dude… yer gotta listen to me… hey you guys in there…" America yelled to the others. "Spain my main dude person and Finland…"

"Shush, you idiot…" England hissed.

"I mean where is Russia now?" America said, looking very serious.

"I er… I think…" England frowned. "Well.. He was in the music room but…"

"Well there you are then."

"But…I don't see that that proves anything. Anyway, it seems too obvious."

"That's why it is him!"

England frowned, "This is unexpected… I know I told you to suspect everyone but…"

"You did? Yeah course you did!" America clapped him hard on the shoulder, "Hell yeah I sure did, man dude! I mean I'm America the Hero so I'm always right!"

England frowned and was about to say something. He wondered where all this was coming from.

"Aren't I always right, Finland? Spain Tony dude? Feliciano?" America yelled to the others.

The two Italies were stood in the doorway watching all this, Feliciano nodded, "Well as you're the…"

"Biggest Hero of the whole damned world, better believe it, dude!"

"Non!" Francis slurred.

"You shut up, Francy…" America hissed, in a strangely bad-tempered way, England had not seen since he'd cancelled his subscription to Superman comics by mistake.

"Calm down, Alfred! We're all listening," England said.

"I'm not," somebody said.

"So who did you zink it is… was… who do vous zink it is was…?" France burbled to England, as he took another sip of wine - that America had refilled for him.

"Are you bloody drunk? Well I zink… I mean I think…" England began.

"Dad! I mean er… England… Arthur… come and look!" America leapt to his feet and ran to the window in the music room. He stopped when he saw Austria and bizarrely did a double-take, he then seemed to remember something and said, "Oh sorry, Austria… Australia… Austria…"

"Have you been bloody drinking France's wine?" England asked, sighing as he followed him slowly.

America pointed vaguely out of the window, "There! I can see er… Russia kidnapping er…"

Everyone came in behind them.

Russia appeared behind him, "I'm what?"

"Waagh!" America jumped, nearly hitting the ceiling.

England felt his forehead, "Are you okay? You're a little hot. Are you running a fever? You don't sound right…"

"He won't be right when I've hit him with Mr Pipe," Russia growled.

"He's not right because…" Francis declared, suddenly appearing in the doorway, pointing at America.

America grabbed France, again, and bundled him back in the kitchen and practically poured wine down the Frenchman's throat. "You need a drink, père… erm… Francy-pants."

"By the way, Alfred, what happened to your hair?" England interrupted.

"My hair?"

"It looks different… somehow…The curl has gone." England shook the image away and switched the kettle on. "Yes, anyway… I know who it is… Alfred…damn and blast where is that boy now?"

But America had skidded out and ran up the stairs two at a time.

Russia called up to him, "Yes you had better run, Mr Amerika, because I am going to kill you for saying I am the bad person…"

Finland shook his head, "Mr Russia I think it's because they don't know you as well as I do."

"I know… I wish my Baltics were here…"

"Well it would certainly help if we had someone sensible here, like Estonia or…" England began to say.

Finland crossed his arms, "Are you saying we're not sensible? What about me and Lily?" he said.

"And me and my fratello!" Feliciano butted in, holding his hand up in the air.

Russia smiled down at the Italian, "I don't think anyone thinks you are sensible," Russia told him, he then turned to England, "But I'm sensible aren't I?"

"Erm, seeing as you are bigger than me, yes you are!" England declared definitely.

Russia nodded, pleased.

England turned to Finland, "Of course, I meant you and Lily are sensible as well…" he said.

"Surely, you don't think Lily or I are involved in this do you?" Finland said.

"Of course not!" England said hurriedly.

"Who do you suspect then?" Finland said and added, "America said in the kitchen that…"

But he was interrupted when the door was flung open and America fell into the room in the most epic way possible.

He was covered, head to toe, in mud and something unmentionable.

"Bloody hell! What, in the name of Nelson's underpants, happened to you?" England exclaimed.

America pulled off his once-white vest and threw it to the ground, where it festered. There was a horrid smell. "I escaped, man! It was totally awesome!"

"Escaped from where?" England asked, exasperated.

Scotland pitched in, "Yer leavin' a mess on the carpet, boy!" he yelled, his red hair standing on end.

"The kidnappers, dude! Did yer miss me?" America yelled. He looked down at himself. There was not one bit of his clothing that was its original colour. He looked as if someone had dipped him in a cesspit. Which wasn't actually far from the truth.

"You've only been gone five minutes!" England told him, holding his nose.

"Five minutes? Dude… it felt way longer than that!"

"America! Get out of here! You stink!" Finland said, also holding his nose. "What on earth did you fall in?"

"I fell down a trapdoor into some cool tunnel and someone tried to hit me but I ran and…"

"You ran away…" Russia shook his head but smiled at the same time.

"No! I never run away! Aw man! You don't know what it was like! It was dark and there were at least twenty of them and they were huge!"

Russia shook his head. "We understand…"

"Twenty?" England raised a bushy eyebrow.

"Anyway," America ignored them all. "I ran down the tunnel and into some other tunnel but it smelled a bit…"

"The drains! Dear God! Have you no sense of smell?" England asked him.

Lily had already run out of the room, holding her nose. The two Italies ran after her.

"Go and take a bath and throw those clothes in the bloody bin! Honestly! Running around in the bloody sewers. You complete goon!" England said and pointed to the stairs.

America looked dejected and headed for the stairs, leaving a trail of… something in his wake.

"And where the bloody hell are your glasses? Have you bloody lost them in the sewers?

But America had already gone up the stairs, two at a time.

"That bloody boy," England said, exasperated, looking at the ruined carpet and the disgusting footprints on the wooden floors.

He turned to Scotland, "Where's your mop?" he asked.

"I'm going to kill that bloody boy of yours. This house is supposed to be…" Scotland started to say.

"I know, I know… it's a location for Downturn Alley or something isn't it? Just tell me where your carpet cleaner is. It's not the first time I've had to clean up after the dozy idiot."

"Downton Abbey, Mr England! It's brilliant!" Lily corrected him from the kitchen.

"I love it!" Feliciano agreed. "Don't we, fratello?"

Romano shook his head.

"Capitalist pigs," Russia said.

"It's about the upper class in England, Mr Russia," Lily told him.

Russia smiled creepily at her, side-stepping as England huffed and puffed, pulling a huge monstrosity of a carpet cleaner out of a cupboard in the kitchen. "When everyone is one with Russia there will be no upper class!"

England sighed, "Is anyone going to bloody help me?"

Everybody was suddenly very very busy.

England dragged the carpet cleaner into the music room and shouted through to the kitchen, "Somebody get a bloody mop and clean up this floor, please?"

He turned round and found himself face to face with America - who looked remarkably clean and smell-free.

"How the bloody hell did you get clean so fast?" he asked.

America looked confused, "Dude?"

"Did you use soap?" England said suspiciously. "I've told you before to use soap and water and scrub behind your ears!"

"Er yeah…"

"Never mind that now…" England said, still staring at the American. He couldn't quite work out how America had had a bath and dried himself so fast. "Give me a hand with this bloody thing."

"Where did all this mess come from?" America asked, dumbfounded.

"Are you being bloody funny?" England asked.

"No of course not…"

"Are you bloody drunk? This mess came from you, you big clot!" England told him, while looking round for somewhere to plug the thing in.

"Me?"

"Yes, you were kidnapped and escaped. What's wrong with you? Have you got amnesia or something?" England asked, finally plugging the contraption in and then finding the 'on' button.

Nothing happened.

Outside in the hallway, the Italies were fighting over a mop, watched by a happy looking Spaniard.

"Oh yes, right…" America said.

"So who's the kidnapper?" England asked, bashing the carpet cleaner several times. That would work wouldn't it? "Did you get a look at him?"

"Him? Oh yes…" America looked around and then look at the Italies and then Spain. "I did… it was… Russia!"

England almost fell over. "What?"

"It was Russia! I'm telling you! Who else could it be? I mean really?"

Finland and Scotland both looked up from their scrubbing of the carpet with some kind of stain remover that made the antique carpet turn a fuzzy pink. "Russia?" Finland said. "Are you sure? I mean he's completely capable of it but…"

"Hell yeah I'm sure!" America said.

Scotland shook his head, "I'm having no part in this…" he mumbled.

"Alfred, we have to be absolutely sure about this before we arrest him. Did you actually see him? You said earlier that…" England said.

"Of course I'm sure! I saw him with my own two eyes!" America pointed at his glasses.

"Yes, and you've got your glasses back on. You need to…"

But England didn't get to finish his sentence. America dragged him into the kitchen. "We need to arrest Russia right now and ring the authorities!"

"The phones are out, you goon!"

"Oh yeah…"

What happened next would be replayed over and over by England many times over the next few days. He was just grateful that none of them had had their heads ripped off.

He still wasn't sure who had initiated the attack on Russia. But he suspected it was America and his huge mouth. It certainly wasn't himself.

He found himself with his arms wrapped around Russia's legs trying to stop him from running away. America was on the Russian's back clinging to his neck and yelling, "Arrest him!" whilst a very drunk, giggly France was trying to put handcuffs on him. Pink fluffy handcuffs.

Finland, Spain, Lily and the two Italies watched in horror. Scotland had refused to watch as he said he "didn't want to see any more blood on the floor".

Russia actually seemed to think it was some sort of game and was laughing as he spun them round and round.

Then the door was flung open and two very welcome people came in.

"What the heck is going on?" Poland interrupted. Lithuania stood at his side with his mouth wide open.


	14. Cookies and Conspiracies

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: Eternal Nexus Warrior, ElricGurl, Yui-Kun12, MagicFlyingMintBunnies, ScottishPrincess91, Tari J Deitrich, Silent Searcher, YugiohRulez, Green Eye, AngelicDemon678, Mitsukochan1, AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

**The Vanishing**

**Chapter 14 Cookies and Conspiracies**

"What in God's name are you two doing here? You weren't even invited!" England yelled.

"Well isn't that nice, Liet?" Poland replied.

Lithuania didn't reply. He was being smothered in a huge bear hug by Russia.

"I invited them!" Russia said, his purple aura briefly pulsing. "Well, I invited Toris but not Polska. Toris! I'm so glad you're here!" Russia yelled, hugging the smaller Nation to his chest.

Poland ignored the big Russian's scowls. "We decided to drop by. I was in London for a Comic-Con… it was ace. And then we went to a trade show and I bought this…" Poland whirled.

England then realised why the Pole looked so tall. He was stood on a segway. It also kind of explained why the Pole was dressed like a Japanese girl with bright blue hair in pigtails, short skirt and a glittery top.

"Well… that makes sense…" England said slowly, not really thinking that at all. In fact, he rather thought he would much prefer to be tied to a supermarket trolley naked and shoved down a steep incline before he wore the outfit Poland was attired in.

"Of course it does!" Poland exclaimed.

He rode right up to England, "Now what the heck is going on?"

England stepped back, "We were just about to…"

"They were going to arrest me!" Russia interrupted, pointing at England and America. France was out cold on the floor. "But it was fun. I like wrestling games!"

"Ah…" Finland said, "Now I know why you lot aren't dead," he added as an aside to England.

England frowned.

"He thinks it's a game… you're very lucky," Finland whispered.

America was having none of this, "I tell yer dudes, the dude is a bad dude and has been kidnapping dudes," he told the newcomers.

"I don't think that Mr Russia…" Lily began to say.

"Och aye, neither do I," Scotland interjected but was silenced by a look from America and wandered off with his 'Wee Bertie' muttering something about whisky.

Poland frowned, "What kidnapping?"

It was the wrong thing to say, he was suddenly surrounded by both Italies, Liechtenstein, Finland and Spain - all telling him the long and sorry tale. All at once.

"My bruder went missing first. I saw a ghost and…" Lily began.

"That was no ghost, Missy er…" America admonished, but bizarrely nobody heard him.

"Berwald went missing. Can you believe it? He was in the pantry and I am not happy at all," Finland said.

"Luddy-kins… poor Luddy. I was so happy to see him and I went to get him a beer but his stupid brother Gilbert, who doesn't like me, and thinks I am gay and I'm not.. Well, I am but I'm also happy and…"

"Nobody cares about him," someone muttered.

"I had a bath!" Russia told him. He was still hugging Lithuania.

"Er, Sir? Boss? Can you let me go now?" Lithuania said, struggling to breathe.

Russia shook his head, "Nyet."

"Oh," Lithuania murmured, trembling slightly. "I baked cookies!" he managed to mumble.

"Cookies!" Russia released him and his eyes lit up.

"Anyway, back to the lunacy…" England muttered, watching Lithuania lead Russia away to the kitchen.

"I got hit on the head," Spain told Poland. "I didn't even get to finish cooking my paella."

"Yes you did, Antonio! Don't you remember? We had it for dinner last night," Finland said.

Romano shook his head, "Crazy tomato bastard."

"And that's not all, Mr Russia told me a very scary ghost story," Feliciano continued.

Poland turned to England, "Is all this true?"

"Yes, it is. All of it. Including the ghost story. I, of course, was not scared," England replied.

But he was shouted over now. A cacophony of voices.

Nobody seemed to notice that France was laid flat out on the couch with a dreamy look on his face, completely unconscious or that America was shiftily sidling out of the door.

"Then Gilbert disappeared. He was upstairs somewhere and America had disappeared into the wall and then reappeared. I was stood right in front of him," Finland continued.

"Who? Gilbert?"

"No. America."

"But I saw him."

"Yes, but he reappeared. The walls move."

"Like Hogwarts."

"That's the staircases, stupido."

"You mean the staircases move as well?"

"No! Are you insane?"

"No but…"

"Denmark left only his hat and a trail of beer! I have no idea what I am going to tell Norway when I see him. Berwald and I were supposed to be looking after him and…" Finland said, worriedly.

"Nobody knows where they went!"

"It's very creepy and I'm a bit scared."

"You're always scared, fratello."

"Mr France was kidnapped but then he was given back…"

Poland held up a hand to halt the talking, "What?" he asked.

"It's true. We think he proved too perverted for the kidnapper," England explained.

Poland nodded. He was still standing on his segway and seemed disinclined to get off it, despite the two Italies' pleas.

"What happened to Herr No Style over there?" Poland asked, pointing at Austria, who was still sat at the piano. "Why is he not moving?"

"Ah yes. He was poisoned," England explained.

"It was a tragedy!" someone said, dramatically.

"Is he still alive?" Poland asked. He swivelled his segway over to Austria and peered into the Austrian's glassy eyes.

"Yes… we think…"

"You don't know?" Poland looked aghast.

"Anyway, his cup of tea was meant for me!" England spluttered.

"It wasn't my fault!" Italy cried and then slumped into his brother's arms.

America skidded into the room, "Yo dudes! Did yer miss me?"

"No," England replied.

Nobody else answered.

"So, basically all these people have been disappearing, Austria is silenced and what have you lot been doing? Did you not think to ring for the police?" Poland asked.

"Oh let's see… the Police… Oh yes… Never thought of that! What a splendid idea! Who'd have thought?" England said sarcastically.

"Hey! Poland! When did you get here?" America yelled.

"You were here when they arrived. Are you mad?" England said.

"No but… hey! We did try to ring the Feds but the phone line was cut and then Artie dude tried to escape on the lawnmower thingy! And I was kidnapped but I escaped like a true hero!" America told them.

England frowned, there was something very odd going on. "You've lost your bloody glasses again!" he said. "What's wrong with you?"

"Yes, but I had a bath," America told him.

"Do you have short term memory loss?"

"What?"

England shook his head.

"Hey Liet! Come in here and look at Austria! It's brilliant!" Poland yelled through to the kitchen.

"Livonia's here?" America's eye lit up. Much like Russia's and he, like Russia, skidded into the kitchen to hug Lithuania.

Poland shook his head, "It's Lithuania to you, you clown," he said but Alfred had already taken off. "It's a good job he's cute," he told England.

Alfred found Lithuania sat with Russia in the kitchen and listening to a litany of complaints and grumblings. The big Nation sat eating cookies and drinking vodka-laced tea. When the Russian saw the American, he quickly hid his plate of cookies with one large hand.

"Yay! Toris dude!" America yelled and stopped dead as Russia growled at him.

England followed him in. The 'boy' was forgetful and nutty as a fruitcake but there was something very odd going on. But he couldn't put his finger on it. "When you were kidnapped, as you say…" Arthur began to say to America.

"I was, man!" America said. "Hey those cookies…"

"Are mine…" Russia growled, trying to cram as many as he could in his mouth.

"Did you bake them for Russia?" England asked Lithuania.

"Of course he did! He always bakes me cookies," Russia mumbled with a mouth full of baked goods.

"But… Lithuania, you weren't invited to this conference. How did you know you would be coming?" England asked, suspiciously.

Poland on his segway wheeled in. "What are you implying, England?"

"Nothing, it's just very suspicious, that's all."

"We're to suspect everyone!" America told the Pole in what he thought was a wise voice or that he knew what was happening.

"I invited Toris, do you have a problem with that, Mr England?" Russia said, standing up to his full 6 feet plus height and looming over England.

"No, not at all," England said, suddenly finding that his tie was too tight.

"I didn't invite him though," Russia pointed at Poland with distaste.

"Is it because you wouldn't be able to rock this outfit?" Poland asked, making the segway twirl.

England shook the image of Russia in a skirt and platform boots out of his head and was about to ask if he could have a go on the segway, when America took the words out of his mouth.

"Can I have a go on that?"

Poland sneered at him and took off back into the music room.

As soon as he got back in he was met with more diatribe from the other Nations.

"Woah there! Someone get me a cup of tea!" he shouted. "You!" he pointed at Feliciano. "Get me a cup of tea. In a bone china cup please, I'm feeling, like, posh. And you," here he pointed at Romano, "Get me some biscuits," he looked at the rest of them and began filing his nails, "Continue…"

* * *

In the kitchen…

"So your kidnappers, Alfred? Any idea?" England asked.

"Idea? Well there were at least 20 of them. All built like The Rock!"

"They were rocks?" Russia looked confused.

"Really?" England looked sceptical.

"Yeah and I fought them like a hero!" America did a quick 'hero' pose.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Well…"

"I think, Mr Amerika, you should tell the truth," Lithuania said quietly. He was looking at America with some confusion. "You look different than you did earlier. Where's your glasses?"

"I lost them hours ago!"

"But you found them again!" England pointed out.

"No I didn't!" America looked at them. "Dude Artie. You need to keep up! Anyway there were at least…" he stopped. "Okay okay… there were a dozen…" he stopped again when England raised a bushy eyebrow. "Okay there were two maybe three of them. One was built like a… okay okay… one was really short."

"Short?" England stared at him.

"They were all in masks. One was tall like me…"

Russia snorted and loomed over America.

"Okay as tall as me, but not as tall as Dude Russia here…"

"But you said it was Russia earlier who…"

"No I didn't!"

England's head swam. What on earth was going on? "Okay forget that…" he said quickly as Russia snarled.

"They were all in fancy dress. One was as tall as me, one was short and one was tiny… The tiny one bit me!" America sat down and rolled up his trouser leg and showed England a clear bite-mark.

"Hmmm…" England frowned, thinking hard. "I suspected this…"

"Wut?"

"A biting, kidnapping, maniac?" Lithuania asked.

"Here, I'll put an elastoplast on that," England said. "Hamish?" he shouted. "Hamish? Where is your first aid kit?"

A roll of grubby bandages hit England on the head.

"Oh."

America jumped up, "I got some band-aids in my bag!" he told them.

"Wait there! I want you to show me where this so-called trapdoor is in the garden."

"Oh okay… but I'm kinda bleeding here, man!"

"No, you're not!" England said. "I've had worse bites from…"

"Him…" Russia said and pointed at 'Wee Bertie' who was glaring at them.

But America had already skidded back out and was bounding up the stairs two at a time. "I'll be right back!" he yelled. And then there was silence.

"Damn and bloody blast!" England said and hurried after the American - in a much slower fashion. "I wish he wouldn't just bugger off like that…" he came to the second floor and walked along the corridor.

It was eerily quiet. He could faintly hear the Italies telling Poland a very roundabout version of events. He spun round as he felt eyes watching him and swore the eyes on the painting entitled 'Mad Arnold and his goat' moved.

Finally, he called out, "Alfred!"

"What?"

He spun round to find America stood behind him.

"What in King Alfred's name are you bloody messing about for?"

"What do you mean? I came up here to…"

"Did you get your damned plaster? I thought for a minute you'd been kidnapped again!"

"You need to calm down, Dad."

"I'm not your bloody father… And you look different…"

"My curl is back, Dad, I mean er Artie dude man."

England frowned. "You found your bloody glasses! What in Nelson's name are you messing about at? One minute they're on and the next, they're not!"

America practically ran down the stairs, "Don't worry Dad," he said in a completely offhand manner, England thought and then shouted behind him as if to someone else. "The Eagle has landed!"

"What the hell…?" England muttered. But there was a 'flump' and a bang in one of the rooms behind England as if something or someone had fallen over.

"Just a minute, chap…" England said and turned round. "I really hope that's not another Nation…It sounds like it's coming from your room, Alfred…"

America ran back up the stairs and pulled him, "Come on! There's nobody up here, only you and me and … some ghosties."

England shook his head, listening hard, "Flying mint bunny says there's something wrong and besides…"

"God, Arthur! You kill me, you really do! You heard nothing…" There was a frantic look in America's eyes.

England looked him up and down. "What's wrong with you? You look odd…" A flash of inspiration hit the Englishman like a thunderbolt or something really flashy, "Show me your leg!" he said quickly.

"My er leg…?" America looked sweaty and panicky.

England never really saw America panic unless he'd run out of food. Realisation began to dawn on him. "Oh my God! I know what's going on!"

"No… no you don't!" America almost screamed at him and then took some deep breaths, "It's your imagination. It's Russia… I told you… he's the culprit…" But America was looking behind the Englishman as he was talking. "Don't do it!" he suddenly yelled.

England felt a breeze pass over his head and he turned quickly. The portrait behind him shook on its hook as if a gust of wind had threatened to blow it off. 'Mad Arnold MacGregor of the MacGregor Clan and his favourite goat' England read, but it was the wood panelling that caught England's eye. It was tilted. He tapped it. "It's hollow!" he declared.

"No!" America yelled.

But the panelling suddenly swung inwards and a gloved hand reached out and grabbed the Englishman.

"Well, toast my crumpet…" England said and disappeared into the panelling, which snapped shut behind him.

One would have thought America would have done something heroic and saved his friend, but he didn't. He made sure his curl was curled, straightened his glasses and took off down the stairs, shaking a little. "Oh God… I told them… I wish I hadn't been talked into this," he muttered to himself.

Being a minion to an evil overlord was exhausting, he thought...

To be continued...


	15. Jail Cells and Crumpets

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: heart44hayatolover, Elricgurl, Yui-Kun12, MagicFlyingMintBunnies, ScottishPrincess91, Tari J Deitrich, Silent Searcher, YugiohRulez, Green Eye, AngelicDemon678, Mitsukochan1, AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

**The Vanishing**

**Chapter 15 - Jail Cells and Crumpets**

"Where's Arthur?" someone asked 'America' when he walked into the music room.

"Erm, he went for a bath. You know these English people. They have to have a bath every afternoon with crumpets," 'America' told them hurriedly.

"Isn't that afternoon tea? And I'm not sure that's how it works," Finland said.

"Well, I don't know!" 'America' said quickly.

But before Finland could ask any more questions or even suggest asking Scotland if this was indeed a quaint English custom, Poland was putting everything right, in his own imitable style.

Now suitably refreshed with a bone china cup of chamomile tea and a custard cream, the Pole was determined to 'break the case', as he called it. Watched by an adoring throng of fans (Feliciano, Romano with his arms folded, Lily and Spain) he first tipped the dregs of his tea over the Austrian. When this didn't work (Finland muttered, "We tried that…") he balanced his plate of biscuits on Roderich's head and then stuck his hand daringly into Austria's velvet jacket pocket.

There were collective gasps.

"Mr Poland!" Lily gasped.

Poland nodded, "Nothing scares me, sweetie. Me and Liet were, like, superpowers once," he told her. He then pulled out… Austria's wallet.

"Oh my God!" someone whispered. Everyone was in awe. Nobody had ever seen it before.

"It's so… shiny," Lily said.

"It's bloody big! Is there anything in it?" Romano asked, his eyes like saucers.

But before Poland had even had a chance to open it (it had a padlock on it), a hand reached up and grasped it. Austria's eyes opened wide and he jerked up with a hoarse yell.

* * *

"What fresh hell is this?" England's hell was tied up, back to back with some un-named Nation. His arms tied behind his back and bound to another Nation. His feet also were bound in front of him.

"Yo! England! We've both been captured by evil dudes, dude!" America yelled behind him.

"Oh God."

"I know."

"Can't you use your supposed superhero strength to get us out of here?"

There was a struggle where Arthur was jiggled about, almost flung into a stone wall and had his arms almost ripped from their sockets.

"No," America said finally.

"Well how did you get bloody kidnapped?" Arthur asked, amazed that even with Alfred's low IQ that he managed to get kidnapped twice in the same day. "You were right in front of me grinning evilly and…" England remembered and now knew what happened.

"I was in my bedroom getting a plaster, dude. A nasty little piece of work bit me before, remember?"

Arthur was about to respond when the door was unlocked and flung open and two stormtroopers stormed in.

If Arthur had been sitting on a chair he would have fallen off it.

"Cool," America breathed.

"It is not cool! What the hell is this? Some kind of fancy dress party?" England was, for the thirtieth time that day, appalled.

"Aren't you a little short to be a stormtrooper?" America asked them.

Indeed they were. One was a little over four feet tall, whilst the other was even shorter.

England frowned. Images of comic-con or whatever it was Lithuania and Poland had attended went through his head (England wasn't really sure what 'Comic-Con' was).

The taller one stepped forward and spoke, "You have been very difficult. This is not personal. It's just business," the voice said.

"Hey! It's a voice modulator thingy!" America said excitedly.

"A what?" England said. As far as he was concerned it sounded as if the stormtrooper had a cold.

"I have one on my stormtrooper helmet, remember?" America said.

"No."

"Yeah you do! You bought it for me for my birthday two years ago!"

"Alfred, I can't remember!" England protested.

The taller stormtrooper interrupted, "Shut up!"

"I say! How bloody rude!" England retorted.

"Yeah, it was," America added.

"You don't understand the danger you are in!" the taller stormtrooper said (the smaller one had not said a word but was stood staring at them - they thought. They couldn't see his/her eyes of course).

"Cool!" America said.

"Really? Who from?" England asked, doubtfully.

"Well, us, of course," the stormtrooper told him.

Arthur started laughing and, after some hesitation, so did America.

The stormtrooper stomped up and down, "Stop laughing!" came the nasally metallic voice. "You don't know who you're dealing with! We will rule the world!"

"Well, now I know for certain it's not Russia…" England said, in between laughs, "I think this is funny."

"How do you know it's not Russia?" America asked, in amazement.

"They're too bloody short, you clown!" England said.

"Oh yeah…"

"I know who you are," England told them.

"No you don't," the stormtrooper said.

"I don't," America said. He was leaning back now as the smallest stormtrooper leaned, not quite over him (even sat down, America was still slightly taller than the stormtrooper) but into him.

"You were our greatest threat. We knew we had to get you and now we have!" the stormtrooper said, in what they obviously thought was a threateningly manner.

"Who me?" Alfred asked, delighted.

"Not you!" the taller stormtrooper said.

"He means me," England said.

"How do you know he's a he?" America asked.

"It's obvious," England almost yelled.

"Oh yeah!" America said, "There aren't any female stormtroopers!"

"Idiot! We are not in a movie!"

"He is an idiot," the stormtrooper agreed.

"Don't talk to him like that," England retorted.

"You shut up!" the stormtrooper said.

"Who me?" America asked.

"No, him!"

"Cheeky little squirt!" England yelled.

The smaller stormtrooper had said nothing at all and Arthur had assumed he (Arthur knew he was a 'he') was just an accomplice, however, as the taller one went into a paroxysm of rage, Arthur's view changed when the smaller one kicked the bigger one in the knee. (Arthur realised just how flimsy these costumes were as the larger one then jumped around in agony.)

The smaller one then shoved the larger one outside, hitting him the whole time on the arse with a lightsabre.

"Erm… very interesting… very interesting… That tells me a lot, Alfred," England mused.

"I know, right! Stormtroopers don't carry lightsabres! They know absolutely nothing about Star Wars!"

"Will you shut up about bloody Spar Wars?"

America gasped in shock.

"Have you worked out what's happening yet?" England asked, completely exasperated.

"'Course I have! We got kidnapped by two dudes who went to the same Comic-Con as Toris and gay dude Pol…"

"Oh Alfred! Use your loaf!" England would have put his head in his hands if they weren't tied behind his back.

"Oh my God!" America said. He appeared to see the light. "You think it's Poland and Lithuania in disguise!"

"For the love of Edward the Third's underpants!" England yelled.

"You need to calm down," America countered.

"I wonder what happened to the others? Where are they?" England asked.

"You mean Switzy, Sweden, Pru and Den?"

"Yes and… who else?" England said.

"Well Germania is over there!" America nodded to the corner.

Where a figure was sat tied up, a little like England and America, but unlike them, he was gagged, duct tape covered his mouth. The German's eyes bulged in utter rage and indignation.

"How did I not see him?" England yelled.

* * *

Back in the music room, the possibility that England, the only sane man, could have been kidnapped had not yet sunk in.

"So let's get this right? England is in the bath?" Poland asked.

"Yes, it's a common English custom to have a bath in the afternoon with a cup of tea and crumpets," 'America' told them.

"Why are you sweating, Mr Amerika? It's not so hot in this room," Lithuania asked, suspiciously.

"I'm not! I mean why are you asking me? Why are you asking me all these questions? Shouldn't you be asking Austria or Russia or…"

"Me? Are you suggesting I poisoned myself?" Austria asked. "And why on earth do I have cobwebs in my hair?"

"No you were trying to poison Arthur!" 'America' said.

"Are you insane? And Feliciano, tell your brother to stop looking at my wallet!"

"I didn't do anything!" Russia said, still protesting his innocence, "Mr England knew that. I told his fairy. She can vouch for me."

"Tinkerbell knows nothing!" 'America' said suddenly.

"I can solve this mystery, Liet," Poland whispered to Lithuania and pulling him away from the other Nations - who were all bickering. "Who has the most to gain if all the Nations were incapacitated?"

"I don't know…" Lithuania bit his bottom lip worriedly.

Poland nodded at Russia, who was still telling everyone that his only crime was not cleaning his bath after use and 'getting a fairy drunk'.

"And the rest," Austria muttered, still picking cobwebs out of his hair.

"Mr Austria, we're sorry we used you as a duster…" Lily began.

"What?"

"You mean we're sorry we watched America used you as a duster," Finland said.

Austria turned to 'America' and just about shrieked at him, "You are despicable! You have no respect for your elders!"

Everyone expected America to yell back but he looked a little upset, "Yes, I do… I mean… you old oldie you!"

Everyone looked disappointed.

Only Feliciano looked shocked. "I think it's terrible, Mr Austria! I told them not to use you as a duster or an ashtray or to prop you up against the window or made your hands do those rude gestures or prop you at the piano…"

"You're a snitch and a traitor!" someone said.

Feliciano burst into tears.

"You were the one who made the tea that poisoned Mr Austria!" Finland pointed out.

"I was not!" Feliciano hid his head in his brother's shoulder.

"I cannot believe young Italy would ever do me harm!" Austria declared. "The rest of you, however, are despicable!"

Finland nodded. Lily looked shocked and was about to say something, but Scotland came marching in playing 'Rule Britannia' on his bagpipes.

"Where is England anyway?" Austria asked. "And what has happened to France? Please tell me he didn't touch me whilst I was incapacitated."

"He's drunk," Lily said. "He tried to get into bed with me last night but no, I don't think he touched you, Mr Austria."

"You don't think he touched me? That's not good enough. He's a pervert and has always had designs on me since the Napoleonic Wars."

"Austria, chill the heck out, we are going to solve this mystery, aren't we Liet?" Poland interrupted. "Britain is missing… whether he has indeed taken himself off for an epic English bath in some kind of weird magical rites that might manifest itself as some demon later or he's been…" Poland paused for drama, "kidnapped!"

There were collective gasps - from most of them at least. Scotland carried on playing.

"I'll go check upstairs!" 'America' said and ran upstairs.

"I think someone should go with him," Poland said.

"Yes because otherwise he might get kidnapped again!" Feliciano said - with some remarkable insight.

"No, I was thinking for another reason…" Poland told him.

"But why?"

Poland ignored him but turned to the others, "Well? Any volunteers?"

"Pol, what are you saying?" Lithuania whispered.

Poland shook his head.

"Why don't you go?" Finland pointed out.

"Because I'm on this!" Pol spun round on his segway, "And if you haven't noticed, young Finland, segways don't go up steps."

Finland frowned, "Young Finland? I'm probably as old as you!"

"I can't possibly go, I'm still recovering from being poisoned!" Austria said, his arms crossed.

"I'll go…" Lithuania said defeatedly.

"So will I!" Russia declared. "I think it is Prussia who is doing all this with his awful Weird Trio or whatever they call themselves," he added to Lithuania as a noisy aside.

"Bad Touch Trio," Lithuania muttered.

"But I'm in that trio and I'm not bad and I didn't kidnap anyone or poison Austria!" Spain suddenly chirped in.

"Where have you been?" Austria said. "Did you do stuff to me whilst I was unconscious?"

"No! That was America!" Spain said, totally misreading the situation.

"I'm going to kill him!" Austria said.

* * *

"I wonder if there's any way we can get over there to Germany and ungag him?" England asked.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Well he looks pretty annoyed to me. I don't really want to be in this cell with a shouty German."

"We need to shuffle across there and try to free him."

"Nah," America said.

"What do you mean, 'nah'?" England asked his ex-colony.

"I just think we should plan to get out of here, dude," America said.

"So what's your plan?" England asked.

"Oh come on, man! Do I have to think of everything?"

England rolled his eyes.

With some concerted effort they shuffled towards Germany. But as they were tied back to back, England's and America's arms and hands tied together, this was not easy.

"Alfred, will you bloody get your great fat arse moving?"

"I ain't fat! It's muscle! I ain't like Russkie dude!"

"Don't go that way, move this way with me!"

"I thought we going towards the door?"

"Why, in the name of Edward the Third's pants, would we do that?"

"To get out! Why do you keep going on about that dead dude's underpants? Europeans are weird, man!"

"This way. Your left!"

"I'm moving to my left!"

"That's your right!"

"No, that's my other left!"

"For God's sake!"

Finally, England found himself almost nose to nose looking at Germany, who glared back at him.

He humphed through the duct tape over his mouth and tried to indicate his bound wrists.

"Yeah okay! Jeez, man! We're trying our best!" America humphed back.

England bent forward and tried to bite through the ropes but succeeded in only biting Germany who jumped and snarled through the duct tape.

"Why did you bite Germania, dude?" America asked.

"Why do you think? I was trying to free him!"

"By biting his ropes?"

"Yes!" England said. "Honestly, how else do we get out of here?"

"We could use the knife in my back pocket to cut through the ropes."

"You complete imbecile!" England exclaimed.

"Why? Don't you think it will work?"

"I mean… why didn't you tell me?"

* * *

Back in the music room…

Austria dramatically pulled what he thought was a ceremonial scabbard from its fixings on the wall and almost fell over from its weight. It was a claymore.

"Aye lad," Scotland said, pausing in his bagpipe playing, "That was Mad Dog MacDonald of the Boglands' claymore."

"I'm going to give America a thrashing! Who's with me?" Austria said, dredging up a 1000 years of Hapsburg Imperial snobbery and feeling of being wronged.

Russia took the claymore sword out of Austria's hands, spun it round meditatively as easily as if it were a butter knife and gestured to everyone to follow him. They did, but apart from Austria who seemed to think Russia was now his 'hired hand', everyone looked distinctly reluctant.

Inside America's bedroom was… nobody. Only an open suitcase spilling Disney t-shirts and boxer shorts and various toy guns. The Nations looked at one another.

"Well, where is he?" Finland asked finally.

"I don't know, but I'm going to put this Claymore through his head," Russia said.

"Perhaps he's been kidnapped?" Lily asked, trembling a little.

"I really hope he's okay," Italy said.

"He owes me money," Romano said.

Everyone raised an eyebrow at this.

"I'm going to teach him not to mess with the Austrian Empire!" Austria said, bravely.

Russia growled.

"Erm… I mean the Nation of Austria," Austria amended quickly.

"Perhaps he's trying to get Mr England out of the bath?" Lithuania asked, carefully.

"Why would he do that?" Finland pointed out, not unreasonably.

"Because he's stuck?" Lily said.

"In the bath?" Finland looked incredulous.

"Yes," Lily replied.

So they dashed into England's bedroom and subsequently his bathroom.

"He's not stuck!" Italy yelled in triumph.

"He's not here," Finland said.

"Oh… so…" Lily began to say.

"…He's fallen down the plughole?" Russia finished for her.

Lily looked up at him in bewilderment. "How even…?"

"He's gone! Kidnapped!" Italy sobbed.

"Just like the others," Spain said sadly.

"America lied," Russia said with certainty.

"You mean…" Lily said.

"Yes, it was America all along…" Austria announced.

"He's a megalomaniac!" Romano yelled.

"We knew that," Finland said, quite bored.

"I will protect you all!" Russia exclaimed. "I'm the only one who can stop him!"

"We're fucked," Romano whispered to Finland.

* * *

In the cell…

England and America were still struggling and writhing and not in a sexual way at all.

"Put your hand in my left back pocket…"

"Oh my God! Fancy keeping a bloody pocket knife in your back pocket! Are you mad? You could have cut yourself!"

"It's a pocket knife, where else do you keep it?" America asked, puzzled.

"Oh bugger…" England shuffled.

America shuffled around with him.

The only result was that they were almost in Germany's lap.

Germany grunted in distaste - certainly not lust as America thought.

"This is creepy, Artie!"

Arthur had managed to get his hand in America's back pocket by a series of shuffling and squeezing.

"That's my arse!"

"There's nothing there!"

"Oh, it's my other pocket!"

"Bloody fool boy!"

Arthur managed to extricate his hand and using his other hand - which was still tied to Alfred's hands, he put his right hand in Alfred's other pocket and with a yell of triumph pulled out the knife… and dropped it.

"Bugger and damnation!"

"Aw man…"

But they shushed when they heard voices outside.

"I'm not doing this any more. Mr Russia wants to kill me!" came a voice that sounded like America's only quieter and more polite.

"Pull yourself together!" came the first stormtrooper's voice. There was the sound of a slap.

"You're both terrible people!" came the first voice. "I don't know why I agreed to this!"

"Man up. We have this in the bag now we have England," the first stormtrooper said.

England gasped, America was shaking his head.

"But…Russia…" the first voice began to say shakily.

"Yes, now they will all think it's Russia. No-one suspects you!"

"But I think they will."

"Keep your voice down and stick to the plan and by tomorrow we'll all have all the land we ever wanted!"

"But I already have plenty of land…" the first voice said. "Can I stay down here?"

"No! Get back upstairs. We need to make it look like Russia… they already suspect him so take out Poland. Russia hates him!"

Footsteps moved away.

America whispered, "Wow! Poland's going to be taken on a date with the kidnapper."

"They're going to kidnap Poland to make it look like Russia. They're kidnapping all the Nations… but why?" England whispered back.

Germany grunted desperately and it was only then that it occurred to England to rip the duct tape off the German's mouth.

"Alfred, stand up with me!" England whispered.

America stood up, hauling England up with him.

England managed to manoeuvre round, bend down so in all intents and purposes his bottom was stuck in Germany's face (almost). He fumbled around with his hands, found Germany's hair, somehow poked him in the eye and then found the duct tape. Without any preamble he ripped it off.

England would have felt some satisfaction with hearing Germany's muffled yelp as the duct tape ripped the outer layer of his skin off, but he was still trying to wipe the hair gel from his hands.

"Dummkopf!" Germany yelped. "That hurt!"

"Calm down," England replied as he and America flumped back onto the floor. "Do you know what the heck is going on?"

"They're kidnapping all of us because they want our land!" Germany managed to gasp. "The taller stormtrooper just wants land, the smaller one wants the Arctic."

"Well, they're not taking my Arctic!" America declared.

"You mean your Alaska?" England asked.

"That as well!" America said and got to his feet in a sudden act of heroism.

England was hauled up as well. "Wait a minute!" he said. He got hold of the knife and began sawing through the ropes.

America pulled and strained at the now frayed ropes.

"This is unacceptable…" Germany muttered. "Was this supposed to be some kind of rescue?"

"No, it bloody wasn't," England replied, a sheen of sweat on his upper brow.

America pulled his hands free, jumped towards the door, stopped, bent down to untie his feet, and suddenly finding his superhero strength (he claimed later he was wearing his Superman boxer shorts), kicked down the cell door.

"Right, you can free me now, Alfred," England told him.

America hesitated, torn between helping England and escaping but the decision was made for him when they heard voices outside.

"Go boy, and save yourself!" England said dramatically. And was disappointed when America did just that.

England sighed and turned to Germany, "Well… this is awkward… Seen any good films lately?"

Germany glared at him.

* * *

Upstairs…

"It's quite simple, people… I know who did it…" Poland, resplendent in a silver glittery jacket, miniskirt, purple tights, platform trainers and atop his segway, was holding court in the library.

But they were all arguing.

Poland shook his head, "They're not listening, Liet…" he said sadly. He then took Scotland's bagpipes from him, blew on them in a cacaphony of sound and then threw them at Russia's head.

There was shocked silence.

Russia (the bagpipes had missed his head by an inch) prepared to launch himself like an exocet missile at Poland when the double doors were flung open and America bounded in.

"Yo! My main men!"

America stopped dead as everyone turned to him, even he could not misconstrue the unfriendly looks on everybody's faces.

"You…" Russia began to growl, turning his attention from the possibility of ripping off Poland's head.

But before Russia could re-launch himself, another America fell into the room as if pushed.

"Yo…everyone…oh…"

**To be continued**


	16. Stupidity and Stripteases

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: heart44hayatolover, Elricgurl, Yui-Kun12, MagicFlyingMintBunnies, ScottishPrincess91, Tari J Deitrich, Silent Searcher, YugiohRulez, Green Eye, AngelicDemon678, Mitsukochan1, AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

**The Vanishing**

**Chapter 16 - Stupidity and Stripteases**

If England thought this day could not get worse, it did.

"Well, this is some rescue mission…" Germany berated him.

"It wasn't a rescue mission," England explained. Again.

"If it was, you failed."

"I've just bloody told you!"

"Keep it quiet in there!" came a voice from the next cell.

"Well, how bloody rude!" England exclaimed.

"Shut up!" came the voice again.

"You bloody shut up!" England called back.

"Ignore him," Germany said. "This is why they put a gag on me. They didn't put a gag on him though, oh no…"

"Who is it?" England asked. "Who are you?" he called next door without waiting for Germany to answer.

"Switzerland…" the voice came back.

Germany raised an eyebrow.

"…And Sweden!" the voice added.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay!" England called.

"How do you know we're okay? We are most definitely not okay! I've been writing a list of complaints since I was kidnapped. Also a full list for my lawyer for compensation."

"For God's sake…" England muttered.

"I told you… It's like opening a huge can of worms…" Germany told him.

"But Sweden's okay?" England called, trying to change the topic.

"Oh yes… He's not happy of course. But he's my witness! Is Lily okay?"

"Yes, Lily is fine. I'm glad Sweden is okay…" England said, as an aside to Germany, "Finland said he won't do any Santa deliveries if Sweden wasn't okay."

Germany's eyes widened, "I don't believe in Santa," he said.

"Yeah right… Nobody believes you, Germany. Italy isn't here you know," England said.

"I don't… It's a load of rubbish. It's for kids." Germany told him.

"We can hear you in here!" Switzerland called through.

"Miserable bugger," England said. But whether he meant Switzerland or Germany, it is unsure.

"Who else got themselves kidnapped?" Switzerland called.

"Well… Prussia and Denmark…" England began.

"We know that!" Germany exclaimed.

England raised an eyebrow and checked the darker recesses of the cell just in case he had missed any other Nations. There were none.

Germany indicated the cell at the other side. "They," (England assumed he meant the kidnappers) "had to give them beer to shut them up. The language was dreadful. I asked to be brought in here away from them. The drinking games… I know we were in a cell but there was no need to do what they did."

England raised a bushy eyebrow. It had to be really dreadful if Germany couldn't keep up.

Germany nodded. "I think the last barrel of beer knocked them out. I hope so."

"Well anyway, nobody else has gone missing. Spain got knocked out unconscious…"

"Did anyone notice?"

"No," England admitted. "And Austria got poisoned."

"Good! Is he dead?" Switzerland called.

England detected some anxiety in the voice, but that could be wishful thinking, "No."

"Good! He owes me money!"

"You lent him money?" Germany called back. "I do not believe you!"

"He owes me the sum of 25 euros for his half of the taxi from the airport."

"You got a hire car!" England called.

"We claimed for a taxi."

"But if you claimed for a taxi from your expenses how can you say he owes you?"

"You have no idea how this works, England," Switzerland called back. "It's a complicated system."

"But surely even so, he owes you a third of the fare?"

"How ridiculous!" Switzerland shouted.

"Well he does! You came with Lily! So basically you each share a third."

"Idiot English! This is why you are in such economic distress!"

"Why? Because I don't try to fleece my government?"

"He would say it's good fiscal policy," Germany muttered. "Keep your voice down, I don't want this gag put back on."

"What an idiot," England muttered. There was no sound next door. Probably Switzerland was sulking or at least adding something to his expenses form.

"I would like to have seen Austria unconscious though," Germany added.

"He was paralysed. It was quite amusing… to the others. Not me. They used him as a duster and a table…"

Germany laughed. A rarity, England noted. It was very rare for the uptight German to actually laugh.

"So who's doing it then, England?" Germany asked.

"You don't know?"

"I have my suspicions."

"All will be revealed when the idiot boy gets his act together and gets his arse back down here with reinforcements to rescue us," England said.

"I think we'll see Poland in here, next," Germany predicted.

England laughed, "Poland's tougher than he looks. They'll have their work cut out getting him."

"They got me!" Germany protested.

England nodded, "Yes… my point exactly."

"Hey!" Germany looked appalled. He was no longer laughing. "I think they kidnapped Switzerland, Sweden and myself because we are the stronger ones."

"Bugger off!"

"It's true!"

"They kidnapped Switzerland first because he has a gun. But if we're going in terms of strongest why not kidnap Russia?"

Germany nodded. "True… although he is stupid and I think they were trying to blame him. I thought it was him who got me… but then I saw their size."

England was bored, "Where is that idiot boy?"

* * *

The "idiot boy" was confused. He was also trying to protest his innocence.

"He's not me! I'm me!" America exclaimed. Again.

His brother, his mirror image, although they were wearing different clothes - although both sets of clothes were America's own (he admitted this), said the same, "I'm me! He's not me!"

"Well… they're both wearing America's clothes and…" Finland walked around them both. He gave up and held his hands up.

"I say we kill them both!" Russia said.

"He's wearing glasses and the other isn't!" Lily said.

"Do they both wear glasses?" Spain asked, dopily.

"Erm… no? America does, but Canada doesn't?" Romano said.

"But there's two Americas! Like Romano and me!" Italy was amazed.

Finland looked at him as if he had two heads, "What on earth are you talking about?"

"There's a North and South America! That's what's happened!" Italy said and was promptly punched in the head by Russia who was stood next to him.

"Are you crazy, fratello? Shut up!" Romano said to the prone Italian.

"I'm having no part in this," Austria said, stomping off to play his piano. "Let me know what you decide and then I will pound America into the ground."

Lily giggled at this and then hurriedly covered her mouth.

Spain raised an eyebrow.

"Hey! Bring it on, prissy little Australia!" America yelled and stomped up and down.

"Just calling him by a silly name doesn't mean you're automatically the right one!" Finland said.

"But what do you mean by the right one?" Spain said.

"Well it's obvious, Spain," Finland began to say slowly.

"…Yes, it was Canada all along. He's been disguised as America!" Poland told them.

"No! It's a lie!" Canada said.

"He's right! I haven't been Canada all along. I've been me most of the time. I mean… I've been me. He only turned up… wait…" America frowned trying to work it out.

"But they look so alike, how do we tell which one is which?" someone pointed out.

"I can try sitting on them and see which one is Canada!" Russia offered.

Everyone looked at each other, confused.

"France can tell them apart!" Spain said - to everyone's relief. Nobody wanted to see the two Americas squashed by Russia's bulk.

They all crowded around France - who was lain prone on a sofa, clutching a bottle of wine to his chest and smiling creepily.

"Shake him awake," Finland said to Romano.

"I'm not touching him! You shake him!"

Lily put a hand out and then hurriedly took it back, "I'm not touching him!"

Russia stepped forward, "It takes a Russian in moments like this!" he said bravely and shook France so violently he fell off the sofa in a heap. The wine bottle rolled across the floor.

Everyone gasped.

"Is he dead?" Lily asked.

"Check his breathing," Finland said.

Spain stepped forward and put his head on France's chest and then nodded, "He's alive. How much wine did he drink? He can take a lot but when he's knocked out…"

"One of the Americas got him drunk!" Italy said dramatically, pointing.

"You mean, whichever one is Canada?"

"Si!"

"But we don't know which one!" Spain said.

"I still say I kill them both…" Russia said, stepping forward.

"No! There are still some accomplices somewhere…" Finland said, stopping him.

"You think so?" Spain asked.

"Of course there are. He can't have done all this himself," Lithuania pointed out.

"It ain't me!" America declared.

"Nor me!" Canada said.

"We need to wake up France. He's the only one who can work this out," Lily said.

"Go on then," Finland said.

Lily stepped away with a look of disgust on her face.

"The last time he was this drunk he slept for over 36 hours…" Spain said.

Poland leaned into France and whispered, "Oh Francis… we have a naked Italian for you…"

France actually grunted and rolled over but then passed out again.

Feliciano and Romano looked at each other in horror.

Poland motioned to them, "Right, which one is it going to be?"

* * *

In the cell...

"You are both under arrest!" England was telling the two stormtroopers. "I know who you are and you can tell Canada as well!"

"You know nothing!" the taller stormtrooper said.

The two had come back, found the door kicked in and America gone and had argued for a bit and then tried to tighten Germany's ropes. Germany glared at them.

"I know who you are! Little pipsqueak! You just wait until you get home, lad. You'll be grounded for a month!"

"Sweden says a year!" Switzerland called from the other cell.

The taller stormtrooper stomped up and down and then finally took off his helmet to reveal… Sealand. The small principality (or that's what he called himself) looked very annoyed, "You've never understood me, Jerk Dad England! You left me after World War 2 and if it wasn't for Dad Sweden, I'd still be stuck in the North Sea with dolphins as my only friends."

There was loud mutterings from the next cell.

"No! I haven't done my maths homework! Leave me alone!" Sealand shouted back and stomped out.

The smaller stormtrooper leaned in and growled something incomprehensible and also stomped out.

* * *

Upstairs, the Nations had tried everything. A full bottle of wine under France's nose, a bunch of roses… nothing seemed to bring France to consciousness.

"There's only one thing to do!" Poland announced.

"We're not doing it!" Romano said in a fit of bravery.

"No! I don't want to!" Feliciano said.

"Do you want to save Germany?" Poland asked him.

"Of course I do. But there must be another way!" Italy said.

"You can't do this…" Lily said, utterly concerned and appalled.

"Well, I can think of one other way…" Poland turned to Lithuania. "Liet, you lived with America for a while in the 1920s. Which one is which?"

Lithuania shook his head, "I can't tell. Really. They're so similar…" He walked around them both.

Russia snarled, "You can't have him!" he growled at the two Americas.

They both looked at each other, one in defiance, one in fear.

Russia sniffed them both, "This one smells of fear," he muttered, poking Canada.

Nobody was listening.

"I know! We had a secret codeword, do you remember?" Lithuania asked the two Americas. They both shook their heads.

"Go on…" Poland said, interested.

"Toy soldiers!" Lithuania said in triumph and waited.

There were blank looks. On both Americas' faces.

"Toy soldiers!" Lithuania said again.

"That's it! Now I kill them both," Russia said, advancing on them.

"No! Wait…" Poland said. "Right…" here Poland swivelled his segway round and faced the two Italies. "One of you needs to strip…"

Romano shook his head quickly. Feliciano, who had already forgotten the threat earlier began taking his clothes off. "Yay! Naked time!" he said.

"Yes yes… naked Thursday…" Poland said, averting his eyes.

Lily covered her eyes.

"Does he do this a lot?" Finland asked Romano.

Romano nodded, "He's always wandering around with no clothes on. It's disturbing."

Russia blushed and hurried away to join Austria who, for a change, was playing Schubert, his hands slamming down on the piano keys.

In Russia's eyes, there was only one time of day when you took your clothes off - bath-time. And even then, if his sister was around he went in the bath fully clothed.

Poland leaned over France, "We have a naked Italian for you, Francis… all for you…"

Feliciano screamed, picked up his pants and tried to run away. Nobody stopped him.

France stirred and then slept on, looking annoyingly serene.

The doorbell rang.

All the Nations looked at each other in a mixture of surprise, amazement and jubilation.

They all dived for the door, falling over each other in haste.

One of the Americas took this moment to try to sneak away but bumped into Russia, who grabbed him by the ear. He also took hold of the other America by the ear and held them both.

"Answer the door," he said to Lithuania.

Lithuania straightened his jacket, muttered to himself "It's like being back in Leningrad," and opened the door.

On the doorstep was a Nation nobody expected to see. And they'd brought company.


	17. Mazes and Unmasking

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: Eternal Nexus Warrior, heart44hayatolover, Elricgurl, Yui-Kun12, MagicFlyingMintBunnies, ScottishPrincess91, Tari J Deitrich, Silent Searcher, YugiohRulez, Green Eye, AngelicDemon678, Mitsukochan1, AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

**The Vanishing**

**Chapter 17 - Mazes and Unmasking**

"Well… look who it is…" someone said.

"Who is it?" Russia asked, peering around the throng. He had been disturbed from his own investigations as to which America was which by attempting to sit on them both. The one that 'squealed' was Canada he decided. Or perhaps the one that didn't squeal was Canada? He was unsure, but was determined to do it nevertheless.

"You ran away and left us to it!" Finland said to the Nation on the doorstep.

"Yes, not very brave was it?" Poland said, shaking his head.

"Who is it?" Russia said, trying to shove people out of the way.

"Police! Arrest them all!" the mystery Nation said.

"Oh, it's Japan…" Russia shook his head and stomped off as if this was of no consequence whatsoever.

The mystery Nation was Japan and he had brought with him half of the local police force.

"At last… some help," Finland said and then protested loudly as he was put in handcuffs.

As was Spain, Lily, Romano and one of the Americas.

The other America was trying to get away up the stairs but was stopped by Russia, "Going somewhere?" Russia asked and delivered him to the police where he was put in hancuffs.

Handcuffs were put on Russia but then promptly broken and Russia shook his head as if they were a bunch of children playing a joke.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Lithuania warned the police. "He doesn't like handcuffs of any kind!"

"Why are you arresting us?" Finland protested.

"You are all a disgrace to the ghosts of your ancestors!" Japan replied.

"But… you left yesterday!" Finland pointed out. "Why did it take you so long to get help?"

"Yes and I have had a good think about you all. I rang China and…" Japan began to say.

"I also rang Yao!" Russia said, grinning happily at the memory. "But then Mr China said he was going into a tunnel," he frowned then. Two policemen stood next to him trying to put handcuffs on him. They looked like little kids next to him. He appeared not to notice them.

"These are all awful people!" Japan told the police. "China agreed with me."

"No we aren't!" Lily protested.

Russia stepped forward to prevent the police from taking Lily into the waiting police van. "Touch her and I will touch you…" Russia said, looming over them.

Everyone glanced at each other fearfully.

"Not in a gay way either," Russia added quickly.

"I don't understand why we're being arrested? We've done nothing wrong! Some of us have been kidnapped. You need to search the place!" Finland was still protesting.

"This is a den of iniquity and debauchery!" Japan declared.

"No, it's not!" Poland said. "And I should know. I've been to a few. It's quite boring really," he added.

And then a small naked Italian ran past shouting, "Help me Luddy!"

And then… France, his sense no doubt spurred on by the sheer amount of uniformed men, woke up.

"Francis! Which America is which?" Finland asked, desperately.

"Erm… Je suis…" France began to say and then was distracted, "Ah… such 'andsome young policemen!" he said delightedly.

"Bloody hell…"

Russia had punched one of the policemen which culminated in them calling for an 'armed response unit' and 'animal control' when 'Wee Bertie' attempted to join in the fight.

"This is utterly preposterous!" Austria said, emerging from the music room and ducking when a policeman's body flew over his head.

"Excuse me? Mr Policeman? You need to search the rest of the place. Some people have been kidnapped and until you turned up I had the whole situation under control," Poland was telling the senior policeman. "That Russian guy, I would use a mixture of diazepan and elephant tranquiliser to knock him out. Isn't that right Liet? Also, you really really need to sort out that uniform. Black is so not your colour, hun," Poland said.

"Did he just call me 'hun'?" the policeman asked his colleague.

"He calls me sweetie sometimes," Russia lamented.

* * *

Down in the cells, England was trying to organise a rebellion.

"If we all shout together, they might hear us and come down," he told Germany. "I'm sure I can hear voices up there. Perhaps finally…"

"Nobody is coming," Germany said. "I think there's a secret entrance. They won't find us down here."

"Yes they will and if America got out then we can too," England told him.

"The longer we are down here, the more compensation we get!" Switzerland shouted.

"Money? That's not a good enough reason!" England responded.

Germany looked at him in horror. "Are you trying to give Switzerland a heart attack?" he asked.

The spluttering from the cell next door gave him that answer, "I cannot believe you said that! Dreadful. No wonder you are in a recession!"

England took matters into his own hands and got up painfully and hopped/hobbled to the door.

"What are you doing?" Germany asked.

"I'm getting out of here! Sealand forgot to lock the door. He's a little idiot," England said. "Are you with me?"

"Ja!" Germany said and hopped alongside him.

They both, their hands still tied around their backs, struggled to open the door. "Damn these ropes and damn that stupid boy for not stopping and letting us go!" England sad dramatically.

"You mean Sealand?" Germany asked, puzzled.

"No! America!" England replied.

"Oh right…"

"Damn that silly little idiot. I knew he would turn to a life of crime when he went to live with the Nordics. They are a bad influence." England muttered.

"You mean America?"

"No! Sealand!"

* * *

"We are not the criminals you are looking for," Poland was saying to the senior policeman as someone was about to put handcuffs on him.

"You're not the criminals we are looking for," the policeman said in a daze.

"You need to look in the dungeons," Poland continued.

"We need to look in the dungeons," the policeman repeated.

"What are you waiting for?" Poland asked.

"What are we waiting for?" the policeman said. He now had a glazed look in his eyes. "Right, everyone! We'll search the premises. This man here says the kidnapped people are in the dungeons…" the policeman winced at the word 'man'.

"My name is Feliks Łukasiewicz," Poland said. All the Nations stared at him. He very rarely used his human name unless, of course, humans were around. Everyone called him 'Pol' or 'Poland' or 'Polska' for the simple reason that he was very proud that he was Nation and he never let them forget it.

"Right… er… Mr… er…" the policeman gave up. Like most English he had real and persistent problem with 'foreign' names.

"You can call me 'Sir'," Poland said cheekily and spun round on his segway to address the rest of the Nations, who all (with the exception of Russia who was surrounded now by armed police) seemed to see him as some sort of leader.

"Right guys…" Poland began to say, and then was interrupted, "Russia put that man down or you will be shot by somebody. Bullets are so last year," he sighed. "We need to co-operate for a bit. I know that's, like, so not us, but this time we just need to do this so we can, like, get the others back and not cause, yer know… World War Three or something…" he sighed again, swivelling on his segway, "Does my bum look big on this?"

With the aid of Lithuania, Poland managed to herd the Nations into the music room where Austria was still pounding on the piano. In fact, it was Lithuania, with all the diplomacy he had learned from living in Russia's house, who managed to get all the Nations into the room and sitting down quietly. Russia was led in by Lithuania waving a cookie under his nose (Russia's nose, not Lithuania's).

"Right, we all stay in here until the others are freed and then we sort out exactly which America is which and who the heck is doing all this," Poland told them.

Normally, with so many Nations in one place there would have been chaos, or at the very least several arguments on a variety of issues: disputed territory, arranged marriages, wars, whose Navy was the best, the Eurovision Song Contest and whose boss was the worst. But this time, they all sat fairly quietly.

Some of the Nations were missing of course. Italy was still running around naked somewhere upstairs being chased by his brother carrying a pair of pants.

France's regained consciousness should have meant that they could solve the mystery as to which America was the real America. But France was trying to chat up one of the policemen. The two Americas sat side by side, one looking sweaty and nervous, the other just looking dim.

Scotland should have been able to show the police where the dungeons were, but he adamantly refused. "The jig is up, Canada!" he said, holding out his hands to be cuffed.

"But which is which?" Poland asked him. "And why did you help the kidnappers?"

"Well.. Ah thought that if my stupid brother was kidnapped I could represent Britain. I should, yer know, I'm the eldest!"

"It's disgraceful!" Austria said, pausing in his playing.

"But I was bribed with whisky," Scotland added.

Everyone nodded at this, as if this was completely understandable.

* * *

"Well, it's about time!" England declared as the police freed him and Germany. "I must say, we were about to get out of here and sort out this whole mess. I suppose you've arrested the villains?"

"Yes, about that… we need statements from each of you," the senior officer said.

"You'll be hearing from my lawyer!" Switzerland said, emerging from his cell.

Peering inside, England was startled to see that Sweden had built a chair, a table and bizarrely, a bookcase. Bizarrely as there were no books. But England decided not to say anything. He wondered how long Sweden had expected to stay in there.

"Are you okay, Sweden? I didn't mean what I said about Sealand and you lot… I mean er… the Nordics… I mean er… obviously Denmark is the worst…" England trailed off, looking up at the grumpy Swede.

"Hmmm," Sweden mumbled.

The cell containing Denmark and Prussia looked as if the Prussian army had had a party in there. The police peered in with horror and hurriedly shut it again.

England, partly to extricate himself from Sweden's glare and partly so he didn't have to listen to Switzerland's list of complaints which all seem to be aimed at him, had a peek inside Denmark and Prussia's cell.

"Dear Lord! How can two people…" (here, England used the term 'people' loosely and with disbelief) "… cause so much havoc?"

Apparently, Sealand and his colleague had tried to quieten the Prussia and Denmark with copious amounts of beer and when this hadn't worked - they'd tried wine.

Obviously wine was not something that went down well with either. There were numerous bottles of wine about the place - some smashed.

"Oh my God! What will France say?" England muttered to himself as he made his way perilously among the broken glass. "Now I know why they were in the cellar so much - to get the booze."

"Who were? You mean Gilbert and Denmark?" Germany asked behind him.

"No, Sealand and his cronies. The blood I found was…"

"Jam," Sweden said, appearing behind him.

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Went t'get it," Sweden mumbled. He looked down at Prussia and Denmark. "He's n'trouble," he said and walked back out.

Denmark and Prussia were laid prone on the floor and, embarrassingly for them (England was ecstatic and wished he'd had a camera, Germany was embarrassed, Sweden just shrugged, Switzerland wasn't interested) they had their arms wrapped around each other.

"So where are the kidnappers?" the policeman asked England.

England was quite proud that they had identified him as someone who knew what was going on.

He didn't.

* * *

"Well, that's something you don't see every day," Finland observed, looking out of the window.

Russia joined him, "Oh! There are two people in fancy dress running across the lawn."

Everyone joined him at the window, apart from Austria and Scotland. The latter Nation was being led outside in handcuffs.

Scotland shouted at the running stormtroopers, "Away yer lads! Just abandon me to ma fate eh?"

No-one understood him.

"They're both a bit short to be stormtroopers aren't they?" Finland asked.

Russia nodded and then smashed open the window, jumped out and ran after them.

There was a moment's silence. Poland shook his head, "Well? What are you all waiting for? Get after them!"

There was a moment's hesitation and then Finland, Spain and Lily (Lily being helped over the window ledge by Spain) ran after the two villains. Lithuania and the two Americas (one looking a little unwilling) were about to follow them.

"Not you!" Poland commanded, "Liet, you guard them both."

"But I'm not the villain!" one of the Americas said.

"Yes you are!" the other said.

Lithuania sighed.

* * *

The chase outside was getting interesting. The two stormtroopers had accidentally ran into the world famous Chillingley House Maze.

"Split up!" one stormtrooper yelled to the other.

"I'll take the bigger one!" Russia told Spain, Finland and Lily, "You take the little one!" he paused to take a drink of vodka and said to Lily before speeding off, "Vodka makes me fast!"

"They're both bloody small," Finland huffed next to Spain. Lily nodded.

They were joined by 'Wee Bertie' who snapped at the smaller stormtrooper's heels and before they had even got to him, the small Scottie dog had brought the stormtrooper down.

There was a vicious fight before the small stormtrooper managed to jump up and run - on all fours - around the corner.

"Well… that's something else you don't see everyday," Finland mused.

'Wee Bertie' seemed to agree. The Scottie dog jumped to his feet/paws and ran after the stormtrooper, howling.

* * *

The other stormtrooper had been trapped by Russia in a dead-end.

"I'll make a deal with you!" the stormtrooper said to Russia.

Russia shook his head, "There are no compromises in Soviet Union," he said simply. The fact that there was no Soviet Union was beside the point.

"If you join with me then I'll give you all the land I've gained… no wait… half the land I've gained."

Russia considered this and took another gulp of vodka. "What land is that?"

"Well I took Greenland off Denmark…"

"Nyet. I don't need that. I have enough ice and snow. Carry on…"

"Swedish Lapland?"

"Nyet. I just told you. Do you have anywhere nice and warm with sunflowers?"

"Erm… I didn't manage to get Mr Switzerland's alps. He told me to bugger off. But I may have got Kaliningrad off Prussia!"

"I already have that! Useless. No nice warm ports?"

"No…"

Russia advanced holding up his lead pipe.

Sealand, for it was he, dropped to his knees and took off his helmet, "Don't hit me!"

"Why not?" Russia cocked his head.

"Otherwise I'll tell on you! I'll tell mum!"

Russia stepped back, "You wouldn't!"

"I would!"

Russia grabbed him by the ear and hauled him out. "I think that you should not mess with the big Nations like me!"

"I told them to kidnap you cos you were the biggest and meanest and… ow!"

Russia smiled as he squeezed the young Principality's ear. "You should have come to me first. Let that be a lesson for you," he told him.

* * *

Meanwhile…

The smaller stormtrooper had managed to elude his assailants. But he was lost. As were they.

"Perhaps Bertie can sniff him out?" Lily asked carefully.

The dog barked enthusiastically but ran round in circles.

"I have no idea where the hell he's gone…" Finland said.

"How do you know he's a he? And why was it running on all fours? Who on earth can run on all fours?" Lily asked.

"Because it's…" Finland was about to explain.

When Spain suddenly exclaimed, "Where are we again?"

"In a maze, Mr Spain," Lily answered slowly.

"Right… I see… chasing that small person… Is he in here with us?"

"We don't know. Probably. We're lost," Lily said.

"Hmm…" Spain looked around at the high hedges that loomed above and around them. "If we can't go around them or through them," here he tried to shove himself through but was obviously either not big enough, strong enough or energetic enough and gave up, "We could just go over them."

Finland shook his head, "What are you on about?"

Spain bent down and linked his hands together, "I'll give you a leg up!" he said.

"Ah!" Finland said, suddenly seeing what the Spaniard was talking about.

* * *

"Well, seeing as we can't work out which is Canada and which is America, I think they should both be arrested until one of them fesses up," England announced.

"You're not in charge," Poland told him, much aggrieved.

"Actually, I am." England told Poland.

Russia had already shoved a still protesting Sealand into a police van.

Lily, Finland, Spain and 'Wee Bertie' suddenly appeared, dragging along the smaller stormtrooper.

"Let's unmask this villain!" England says dramatically. He pulled off the helmet and reveals...

"Mr Kumajiro!" Lily exclaimed.

"Yes, of course it was. I knew it had to be someone who the kidnapped Nations did not suspect or fear. And when Alfred was bitten… Mr Kumajiro, I arrest you for kidnapping, attempted murder, assault and helping to ruin a perfectly good English lawn." He clamped France's pink fluffy handcuffs onto him. (He had no idea why they were in his pocket.)

"You're so clever, Mr England," Lily breathed.

"I am rather!" England replied.

"I guessed… when it started to running on all fours," Finland muttered and went off to find Sweden.

"But why?" Lily asked, tears in her eyes.

"Land, Miss Lily. He wanted all of the Arctic. They took down Switzerland because he had a gun. Sweden was taken as they knew he would guess it was Sealand and Peter had been grounded for not doing his maths homework. Also Mr Kumajiro wanted Swedish Lapland. They took out Denmark because Mr Kumajiro got greedy and wanted Greenland. Prussia of course because he's just annoying. Germany because he was seen as a threat. Mr Russia would have been next and frame America. Or the other way round… I'm not sure…"

"And I would have gotten away with it too if it wasn't for you meddling Nations and your dog!" Mr Kumajiro yelled.

Bertie looks up frowning. Scotland said from the confines of the police van, "What dog?"

The two Americas were shoved into the police van and the door is about to be slammed shut when one of them yelled, "Red and blue!"

"What? Wait…" England holds up a hand and indicated to the policeman to stop.

"Red and blue! Litvania!" America yelled. "It's red and blue!"

Lithuania ran out, "Toy soldiers?" he asked.

"Red and blue!" America yelled with relief.

"And what did you call me?"

"Erm… Litvania? No? Litonia? Livonia?"

"That's him! That's Amer… er…" England looked at the policemen, "I mean that's Alfred F Jones."

"Hell yeah, it is!" America yelled, jumping down, "See yer later, bro! I'll get you out," he said to his brother.

Canada hung his head, "This is just awful…" he muttered.

"Idiot. All you had to do was pretend to be him!" Mr Kumajiro growled.

They were driven away - arguing.

* * *

"Well, that's that," England said, wiping his hands.

"Actually, it's not. Mr erm…?" the senior policeman began to say to England.

"Major Arthur Kirkland!" England said proudly.

"We need your help…" the policeman said.

Indeed they did. France was 'partying' somewhere with three policemen and there was still a frantic, naked Italian running around…

*****The End*** **

**Possible Epilogue to follow...**

**Thank you for reading...**


	18. Epilogue - Bargain Basement Abbey

**Thank you to the following followers, reviewers and favouriters: Lady Sapphira, Camry72, ShipsTrash, Eternal Nexus Warrior, heart44hayatolover, Elricgurl, Yui-Kun12, MagicFlyingMintBunnies, ScottishPrincess91, Tari J Deitrich, Silent Searcher, YugiohRulez, Green Eye, AngelicDemon678, Mitsukochan1, AncientJaguar, Becky999, CelebiShine, Celtic-Redhead, Kate Marley, Verity of Paradise, halfdragonbooknerd, Mely-Val, kassydapjgeek14, Avengewholocked, IRequiem, LasMiserabbits, missmyosotis, whovian732.**

**The Vanishing**

**Epilogue - Bargain Basement Abbey**

"My dear Miss Bottomley," a man was saying. The man's hair was the colour of autumn leaves, and was swept back off his face. He gazed with green eyes at a young woman with blond hair, who was wearing an elaborate pink dress with huge puffy shoulder pads. "I am so in love with you. But I cannot wait any longer." He seized her around the waist with his hands and pulled her close to him.

She gazed up into his eyes, enraptured. "We must elope… tonight!" The man said dramatically.

"Oh, Lord Snotberry!" The woman swooned. "You don't know how long I have waited for you to say those words…" She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, stumbling a little on the uneven turf.

The couple's lips met. The cameraman stifled a sniffle, carefully zooming in on the two actors as they kissed. But he could see something moving in the background of the perfect shot… was that… a naked man?

"CUT!" The director yelled. 'Miss Bottomley' and 'Lord Snotberry' broke apart, looking bored. "What the hell is going on?!"

The cameraman looked up. Behind the two actors, who now had their phones out and were texting, a naked Italian man was running past with a tall blond man in hot pursuit.

"Italy! You need to put some pants on!" The blond man yelled, waving a pair of pants in the air as he ran. "You're going to catch a cold!"

"No!" Feliciano shouted back. "No, no, no!" He doubled back and began running in circles, windmilling his arms as he did.

The blond man stopped, panting, his hands on his knees. The cameraman watched as the director threw his clipboard on the grass and stalked over to them.

"Look, pal, you and your weird naked friend need to get the hell out of here," the director began. The blond man lifted his head, and the cameraman felt the force of his glare even from several metres away.

The director faltered. "What I mean to say is," he tried again, "We're filming a TV series here. It's for the BBC, you know."

"Ooh!" the Italian halted, coming to a stop about two feet away from the director. He was still very naked. "Is it Downton Abbey? Signor Hamish said it was, at least that's what I think he said, he sounds very funny you know? He's even funnier than Inghilterra, and he is very funny!" Feliciano grinned obliviously.

"Erm," the director said, not looking as if he knew where to look. He settled on the ground. "Well, since you already seem to know… yes, we are filming the new season of Downton Abbey."

"Yay!" Feliciano clapped his hands, obviously delighted at this, and grabbed the blond man's sleeve. "Oh Luddy, do you think we can be in it?"

"I mean, I suppose that's up to the director here," 'Luddy' said, giving the director a pointed look. 'Luddy' looked as though he'd rather crawl into a hole in the ground than be in an episode of Downton Abbey.

"Well, er… we don't really need any more extras, actually," the director said quickly. "I'm very sorry."

For a moment, Feli looked as though he was about to burst into tears… but then, he grinned. "So does that mean I can keep running around?"

"Wait, no-" The director began, but it was too late. Feli took off again, still completely naked, and having had time to rest he was now twice as fast as before. 'Luddy' swore very loudly in German and sprinted after him, still holding onto the pants.

Three more takes were ruined before the director finally let Germany and Italy be in the episode; one by Ludwig screaming "FELI!" at the top of his lungs in the middle of Lord Snotberry's love confession, one by Feliciano knocking Miss Bottomley out with a wave of his arm, and the final one by both of them landing on the cameraman when Ludwig eventually decided to just tackle Feliciano and force him into the pants. The director looked down at the three men and a broken camera struggling on the ground, took a big swig from the whiskey bottle he'd found on the table inside the house, and resigned himself to his fate.

And that's why, in an upcoming episode of Downton Abbey, a small Italian man in a dress and a very serious, tall German man can be seen dancing in the background of the ballroom scene, during which (as Feli would later tearfully tell his brother) "Signorita Bottomley finds out that Lord Snotberry is planning to marry her for her money and then put arsenic in her tea, mamma mia!"

Romano turned to his brother petulantly, "You completely ruined the series cliffhanger for me!"


End file.
